A tiny twist in time
by the Prince's Jewel
Summary: Canon to Fanon challenge. What if... something changes in the timeline? In this instance, Krillin kills Vegeta?
1. prestory

Author: the Prince's Jewel

Title: A tiny twist in time

Challenge: Dark Serapha's Canon-to-Fanon

Rating: Adult, for sexual content

Warnings: Saiyan abuse and non-con.

*****

"Krillin, don't. Please."

Krillin wavered.

"Please, Krillin."

Or words to that effect. The scene I change is just after the final battle between Goku and Vegeta. Krillin has found Yajerobe's sword and has it poised over Vegeta's throat. Vegeta is too weak and broken from the fight and the effect of the boomeranged Spirit Bomb to be able to protect himself. Goku is asking Krillin to spare Vegeta's life, since he wants to recover and fight against the other Saiyan again. Goku himself is too battered and broken to move, and Gohan's battered, alive, and severely exhausted. It's very early in the DBZ (rather than DB) universe.

We've only met Brolli as a baby, if we watched the Bardock movie. We haven't met his father, Paragus, and we haven't met Turles yet, either. (Unless we watched movies) Gohan is still a child, Goten and Trunks haven't been born yet. Raditz and Nappa are still quite dead, and since it's been a year & I don't like Nappa, they'll stay that way. Goku has never ascended, and Vegeta hasn't either.

All their lives are about to change.


	2. A tiny twist in time

"Krillin, don't. Please."

Krillin wavered.

"Please, Krillin."

Agony. Worse than the sword stabbed through him when he was only a baby, worse than the pain he'd endured when escaping the exploding wreckage of his homeworld. His power flared to combat the pain without his knowledge, exploding the limiters his father's scientists had designed. He didn't notice, too lost in the pain that filled every inch of his being. He didn't notice his ascension to Super Saiyan when it happened, didn't realize how his power doubled and doubled again as the pain only increased.

Waves of glowing blond hair cascaded over his shoulders, burying his contorted form beneath its mass. He flailed; uncontrollable bursts of power leaving splayed hands. Explosions ripped from a powerful golden muzzle, destroying the remains of the building that had housed him.

Feral, red-rimmed eyes sought the source of his pain, saw nothing save the planet itself as another wave shot through him. He roared, screamed in defiance and pain, blasting the planet from existence. As when he had been only a child, his power protected him from the worst of the explosion, propelled him towards a safe place.

The pain ended, finally. Brolli fell, completely spent, to crash into the earth of the world his over-stressed senses had found to shelter him. He laid, stunned by the fall, confused by the events he couldn't yet understand, and waited for his father to come find and help him.

He didn't know he'd killed the man.

Turles woke from a sound sleep to a pain unlike anything he'd ever felt. Unlike Brolli, however, he recognized the agony for what it was and the opportunity it represented – an opportunity he would consider if the pain ever stopped. He fought against the pain, his own power rising to fight it. Simple Saiyan instinct, to overpower what hurt. The wry thought was the last thing he remembered. His body gave into the pain moments before he would have ascended for the first time, luckily for his ship.

Goku couldn't respond to his son's shrill scream. His battered, broken body contorted entirely against his will, further injuring torn muscles and shattered bones. He could barely draw enough breath to breath, yet each hard-won panting gasp came out a pained cry, without enough air to be a proper scream.

He mustered his will, trying to force the uncontrolled flailing of his broken limbs to move him towards his son in spite of his pain. Instead, he managed to maneuver himself to see his prior opponent. Vegeta's battered, bloody body was the last thing Goku saw before his world went white.

The newest Super Saiyan's utter brokenness was the only thing that kept him from going to the prince. His shock and horror grew with his power and his pain, but it was the sudden stabbing knowledge that his son had just died that triggered his jump to the third ascension. Power alone lifted him; sheer will carried his broken body to his son's side, the mass of his hair completely covering the child's body.

"Goku?"

The voice triggered something deep within him, something long dormant. He transformed, tail sprouting and anchoring him to the ground, even as he managed to use the burst to curl protectively around Gohan's body, protecting it from the one coming cautiously closer. Red-rimmed eyes filled with tears looked down at his son's body.

"Goku? Is… what happened?"

"You killed him." His voice was rough with physical and emotional pain, more of a growl than a voice at all.

"I had to, Goku. He would have killed us all if I'd let him live."

"No, Vegeta is still alive."

"What?!" came the horrified yelp. He heard the running footsteps as the little monk went to check on the Saiyan prince. A moment later, the pain ebbed to the aftereffects of the fight.

Red fur bristled as Krillin returned. "He's dead now, Goku. We won't have to worry about him again. What happened, though? Why are you all… furry? Will it go away? Chi-Chi'll have a worm if she sees you like that!"

Goku sighed. With the last of his strength, he pulled his tail into the safe confines of the tattered gi. His tail, at least had been spared any breaks. The transformation dropped, leaving Goku his normal-looking self. "I don't know. Maybe it was because he really was who he said he was, the prince of the Saiyans. Does it matter? Gohan's dead."


	3. Brolli

Brolli woke up slowly. It wasn't his father looking down at him, but a pretty man with light blue skin and a long green braid hanging over his shoulder. He blinked up at the vision before him without comprehension as his admittedly shattered mind tried to take in other information.

He had limiters on. The familiar weight of the old ones was gone, though. These were lighter, different. They felt different, as if instead of just holding his power back, they removed it somehow. It made him feel a little dizzy. He raised one hand to brush at his eyes, and saw the jewels on the limiters seemed to match the ones the pretty man wore.

It was another minute before his wits returned enough to recognize that he was naked and the other man might as well have been. His own nudity didn't precisely bother him, but the other's nearly nude state made him flush. He felt the blush spread as the man smiled down at him.

"I am Zarbon, your new master. Frieza has agreed that you will be my pet."

His eyebrows knit slightly as he tried to process that. He knew the name Frieza – his father had cursed it often enough – but Zarbon was only vaguely familiar. And what was a pet? So, he asked.

"P… pet?" he managed, throat dry and sore.

Zarbon's smile widened. "Yes, little monkey, you are my pet."

He shook his head very slightly, having noticed his headache at last. "What… is a… pet?"

Shock wiped the man's face of the earlier condescending smile. "What is a pet?" the green-haired man repeated. "You don't know what a pet is?"

"No," he answered simply, honestly. He'd never heard the word before, not that he remembered.

Zarbon cocked his head, now giving him a quizzical look. "How old are you, monkey boy?"

Brolli frowned. "I don't know what that is."

"You don't know your age?"

Brolli shook his head, since he didn't, although he'd meant monkey.

"Well, do you know where you were born?"

"Vegeta-sei," Brolli answered without hesitation, "a few days before it blew up. Father told me so. What is a monkey?"

Zarbon blinked, and then very carefully, delicately, seated himself on the bed next to Brolli. "You are twenty-two years old, at the very least. Do you know your name, Saiyan?"

"Brolli."

"Brolli," Zarbon repeated, picking up Brolli's tail and stroking it. Brolli stiffened, eyes wide, waiting for the pain to begin. Father did just the same when he had displeased the older Saiyan, and he didn't see how he couldn't have displeased Zarbon, with his questions and his stupidity. He was stupid, he knew, his father had told him so often enough.

"Stupid brat," he murmured, eyes locked on the hands stroking his tail. "Stupid brat, so much power and no brain to use it. I'll teach you to use it right!" He winced at the last word, his tail jerking in Zarbon's grip at the expected twist and accompanying pain. His eyes slid slowly to Zarbon's face when the man did nothing more than continue to stroke his tail.

"This was often said to you?" The tone was one Brolli didn't recognize: pity.

Brolli winced as Zarbon's fingers found an old break. The spot was healed, but like all the broken places, especially tender. "I'm insane," he offered quietly. "Father says I have too much power and not enough brain, and that Kakarot's incessant crying drove me insane when we were in the crèche together. I don't remember that, though. I remember the sword, and the explosion, and all the times father tried to teach me control, but I don't know who Kakarot is or what the crèche was."

"Kakarot?" Zarbon mused. "I've heard that name. Ah, yes. Raditz' younger brother. The other Saiyans have gone to collect him from E'arth, where he was sent as a child."

The faint humming finally clicked. "Are we on a spaceship?" Brolli asked.

"We are, little pet." Nimble fingers threaded through the tail, pinpointing several more old breaks. "But I think we will first put you into a regeneration tank. Your tail is not well healed, and you have other injuries as well."

Brolli nodded slightly, only to gasp in shock as he was scooped up. Tail and arms wrapped around Zarbon's lithe frame, clinging as his world attempted to adjust to the new positioning. He laid his aching, buzzing head against a warm shoulder; eyes squeezed shut to try to stop the dizziness. Zarbon began moving, and Brolli tightened his tail's grip on the man's thigh, moaning a little desperately as he tried to compensate. His fingers dug into his own forearms, knowing better than to score the man who apparently was to be his father in this new place, at least until his father returned. Still, in spite of his unhappy condition, he still wanted to know what a pet was. Maybe Zarbon would tell him after he took him out of the regeneration tank. An unhappy whine was cut short, Brolli not wanting Zarbon to ask why, and have to admit he was worried about being put in a tank. Tanks held especially bad memories for him.

He kept his eyes on Zarbon's face as the tank filled. His tears blended with the liquid when the man turned away. He knew well enough how a mouth was shaped when saying, "stupid" and "have to train you". Yes, Zarbon was indeed his father in this place. He would be punished twice then. Once by Zarbon, and again when Father came for him.

Brolli felt the new limiters do something, and then knew nothing more.


	4. Turles

Turles assessed the damage to his quarters with a frown. Most of his clothes were scorched and unusable even as rags. Two sets of armor needed replaced, and the third was debatable. The one he'd been wearing had apparently disintegrated, along with the clothes he'd been wearing, the bed sheets, and the mattress. The solid metal bed frame and the wall next to it were slagged.

Pictures and mementos were pretty much a total loss. A few things that had been in drawers and the closet were still salvageable, but none were in their former conditions. Turles ran his hand over the wall, and decided the ship would have to be inspected and likely repaired before he found out just exactly what had happened. Someone was going to die for the pain he'd been put through.

He found the intercom to be out of order, and had to go to the bridge to give his orders. The crew took the change of destination in stride; along with informing him he needed new scouters as well. It was an unhappy Saiyan who headed for the mess, determined to eat himself into a better frame of mind. Discovering the larder was in dire need of being restocked sent him into a veritable frenzy of well-suppressed rage.

The planet-side stop to take care of the resupply and repair took a month. Suppressed rage over the costs sent him into a power spiral that ended with blond spikes that made his crew blubber with fear. He took out four of the planet's largest cities before they waived the bill entirely, fully stocked the mess, and sent him off. He blew the planet up anyway, to celebrate becoming a Super Saiyan, and then set about learning and trying to surpass his new limits.

He set his crew the task of determining the locations of the remaining Saiyans, and took his time formulating what to do with that information once they'd found it. E'arth had more Saiyan warriors assigned than any underdeveloped planet should, and he did have that seed they'd found. He'd start by recruiting any Saiyans still there when he arrived, then destroy the world by growing the fruit that would aid them in defeating Frieza once and for all, incidentally rescuing the Saiyan his lieutenant Zarbon was keeping as a pet.

Turles snarled as he looked down at the picture of the young Saiyan. He'd heard rumors of Brolli before, but hadn't realized the boy had survived the royal execution orders. Such a powerful, pretty Saiyan should not be left in the hands of that perverted creature under Frieza's command. He'd make a much better bedmate for Turles… especially if they arrived after Zarbon had trained the boy.

But, to arrive during the training would be better, because then he could finish training the young man to his own tastes, probably with the boy's full cooperation at his relief at being rescued and among Saiyans once more. At bedding a Saiyan, instead of the monstrous beast that lurked behind Zarbon's pretty face.

Yes, in a few months, life would be very good. Turles smiled, giving himself over to daydreams.


	5. Goku

The funeral had been a somber affair. Gohan had only been a child, and he'd died. Goku had done his best, but his son had still died. Goku sat cross-legged in front of the small grave, staring vacantly at the dirt that covered his only son's body, his thoughts chaotic and drifting.

Where was Vegeta's grave? Raditz'? They were his family as well; Vegeta more vaguely, but still of his race. Where were they? Not by his son, not even in the same graveyard. Why was his son buried alone, instead of with the warrior he'd helped fight against, instead of with his uncle? Why had his wife ripped their son's body from his broken arms? Why had she only blamed him for the boy's death? Why was she still blaming him? He'd tried to protect Gohan, hadn't he? Hadn't he? Tried to keep his son alive? He'd helped kill his own brother to protect his son. Killed one family for another, but the family he'd saved didn't want him anymore. Helped kill Raditz, couldn't save Vegeta, and Gohan… Gohan had still died, and Goku wasn't sure why. Gohan had been alive. Tired, but alive. The spirit bomb hadn't hurt him. He'd been alive, standing. And then, and then…?

Papers crinkled. Nearly vacant dark eyes read over the words once more, the legal jumble only adding to the confusion. Why had Chi-Chi demanded they marry if she hadn't wanted to marry him? Hadn't the preacher who'd married them said it would be until death? Oh, but Gohan was dead, wasn't he? So death had parted them.

Death had parted them. He dug a small hole into the gravesoil, pushed the papers down into it, and covered them. "As I buried you, so do I bury my marriage with your mother. She is no longer my wife." Goku had no idea where the words came from, but they sounded right. His mouth opened once more. "I will find a more worthy mate, one to be proud of. I will find your uncle, and our prince. I will bury your uncle as warrior and family, our prince as royalty and a warrior, and as family. I will do this, somehow, Gohan. I will… I will not let you lie alone, my little warrior son."

Strange words for him, he mused as he slowly lifted into the air. Raditz had died first, but Vegeta's remains should be easier to find. He flew without thinking about where he was going, drawn to the final battlefield. The place his son and his prince and his marriage had all died. The place where he'd lost his faith in himself and his friends, and learned how little his opinions and self truly mattered to the humans he lived with.

He was drawn to that place, the place where Vegeta had fallen, not so evil that a Spirit Bomb could utterly destroy him. Not so evil that he couldn't have been given a second chance. He touched down, next to the largest part of the body, and began gathering the gnawed bones and bits of tattered, broken clothes and armor together. The prince had simply been left to the depredation of the elements, to have his flesh eaten by the wild beasts, his bones gnawed, his body scattered.

Goku finished the grisly task at last. He knelt next to the remains of the Saiyan prince, murmuring words he didn't know the meaning of, and gathered one of the ravaged spikes into his hand. His fingers wove the hair into a braid; his ki cut it cleanly from the rest. Slowly, still murmuring in the language he had once known, the words coming without him understanding, Goku wove the braid into one of his own spikes, so that the mixed hair fell just over his left eye.

The flow of words stopped. His fingers fell from his hair to dangle limply over what was left of a warrior prince. Goku took off his gi top and carefully bundled the fallen prince into the shirt. He tied it off carefully, and then flew back to his son's grave. A simple glance blew a hole next to it, and he carefully arranged the bones and clothes he had gathered into the new grave before filling it in. He found a large enough rock, shaped and carved it with his ki, and placed the headstone.

"I'll go find Raditz now, Vegeta, Gohan. I'd find that other Saiyan for you too, Nappa, wasn't it, Vegeta? I'd find him, but I think we buried him in our fight, so in a way he had a warrior's burial. He's buried on a battlefield, after all. But I'll go find Raditz, if I can, and bring what I can of him back here, to rest with you both. I…." Goku paused, frowning. "I helped to kill him, my own brother. He should be here, too. He should be. It's the least I can do for having helped kill my own brother, make sure he's properly buried with his family and his prince. Right?"

He waited, as if expecting an answer. None came. Eventually, he rose into the air, and headed toward the clearing where he had died for the first time. Three days later, he returned, and filled a new grave. Not until his brother was buried did Goku return to the home he'd bought with his tournament winnings, to clear it of everything he considered his. He moved back to his psuedo-grandfather's old home within a day of burying the last of his family, and proceeded to set about trying to live.


	6. Pet

Brolli frowned. Zarbon had finally taken him out of the tank, and he felt much better, but the man kept asking him questions. As usual, Brolli didn't know how he was supposed to answer. "I'm a boy?" he asked hesitantly.

"I did not ask you your sex, but if you had had sex," Zarbon replied with a laugh. "I suppose you do not know what I mean, again."

Miserable, Brolli hung his head. "No," he confessed.

"Are you a virgin?"

"What's a virgin?"

"Your father kept you very sheltered," Zarbon commented. "I find it odd, some of the things you've never heard of, compared to what you do know. Let me make it more simple then: Have you ever been kissed?"

"Kissed, Master?" Shamed eyes peeked up from under a fringe of dark hair. "What is that?"

"I suppose I shall have to demonstrate. Firstly, thus." A light brushing of lips against his forehead. Brolli shivered, and shook his head. The lips moved on, brushing at the corners of his eyes and the tip of his nose. He giggled a little, but shook his head once more. Zarbon tipped his head, his lips trailing over cheekbones to trace delicately over the corded neck. Brolli whimpered, moving so that Zarbon could touch him like that even more. He heard the older man chuckle before those lips latched on and Zarbon sucked.

Brolli clutched at the ridiculous pink things Zarbon wore on his arms, whining pitifully as Zarbon moved from his neck to cover his mouth. A tongue swiped against his lips, then delved between them. He opened his mouth eagerly, meeting Zarbon's tongue with his own, trying to pull the man back as he drew away.

"Have you ever been kissed before now, little pet?"

"No. Will you do it again?"

"Later, perhaps." Zarbon frowned down at the needy boy in his arms. There was no use trying to think of Brolli as a young man, though he'd tried. The boy was too innocent of life, too transparently in need of affection – any affection – for Zarbon to consider him anything but a child, unless he focused only on the superb lithely muscled form. He stroked his fingers down the boy's sides, inducing a ragged, uncertain purr.

"Next question. Have you ever given pleasure to another with your mouth? Ever licked or sucked another person until they cried out with pleasure?"

"No." Wide eyes looked up at him. "Is that like kissing? Are you going to show me how to do that, too?"

Zarbon caressed unruly spikes. "I will teach you how to pleasure me in that way. Now, have you ever put this," his hand closed over Brolli's cock, stroked it gently, "into someone else's body?"

Brolli's eyes were closed, his head thrown back. Clearly, he'd never received another's touch in this way, and his gasped, "No!" rather confirmed Zarbon's opinion that he would be training a virgin. Brolli mewled when he was released, but Zarbon cupped his cheek.

"Shh, little one. I will make you feel better after one last question. Your anus – you do know what that is? Good. – has anyone ever put anything into it? Anything at all? A finger, a penis, a probe? Anything?"

Wide eyes widened further. Brolli pressed against his hand, shivering. "No, nothing, ever, Master."

"Then you are a virgin, and you've never had sex," Zarbon said with considerable satisfaction. "I will enjoy your training rather a lot, I believe, little pet."

"Yes, Master. Will you kiss me again now?" Zarbon wasted no time in pulling the young Saiyan onto his lap. He plundered the boy's mouth thoroughly, allowing his hands to trail over sensitive skin. Brolli whimpered and moaned into his mouth, nearly whining when Zarbon switched to suckling his neck while stroking him to fullness. The touch of a furry tail around his own cock took him by surprise, but the slide and pull stilled his objections.

Zarbon moaned his own pleasure against the boy's neck, twisting them so that they lay on the bed, the Saiyan under him. Uncertain fingers began their own explorations as the tail curled and furled against him. He stroked down, released the boy entirely, and tweaked a very responsive nipple. Brolli arched up against him, moaning, broken Saiyan spilling from his lips. Zarbon captured them, silencing him, as he rubbed his fur-encased cock against the youth's groin

Brolli froze for a single instant before his tail was tightly wrapped around his own waist, his body tense and terrified under Zarbon. The older man sat up, calmly undoing his braid as he examined the utterly flaccid state his pet had been unaccountably reduced to. "Tell me," he said at last, "why you stopped."

"I mustn't do that," Brolli whispered. Zarbon watched in fascination as tears gathered at the corners of the boy's eyes. "Mustn't ever touch myself."

"What happens if you do?"

"Father broke all the bones in my tail, one at a time, all out of order, and he took a day to do it. When it healed a little, he did it again; just to be sure I'd learned my lesson. And he let everyone play with it while it was broken. They could touch or stroke or pull, and I had to let them or he would curl it up on my bottom and spank me until I couldn't scream anymore."

"I see." The damage had been done. The boy was so tense, so scared, that Zarbon doubted he would be able to coax another erection out of him anytime soon. "He did the same thing each time he caught you?" A nod. "And how many times, how far apart, Pet?"

"The first time, I wasn't so tall as now." Brolli reached out, fingers trembling, to draw a line just below Zarbon's ribs. "I was that tall on Father the first time."

Zarbon caught the trembling hand, kissing each finger gently before releasing it. Brolli stared at him, eyes wide, bright with terrified confusion. "The second time, I was this tall." This time, the line he drew was from nipple to nipple. Zarbon shivered, able to enjoy the touch, if displeased by the reason. He kissed the boy's palm this time. "The third, I reached his nose." The tip of one finger touched his nose. Zarbon tipped his head to suck the offending digit into his mouth. He rolled his tongue over the Saiyan's finger, and allowed the boy to pull it free.

"And the fourth?"

"The fourth was the last time." Brolli wouldn't look at him, and had clenched his fingers together over his stomach. "I hadn't even meant to. I didn't know I was!" Tears slipped free. "But my tail was there, wrapped around that, and Father was standing over the bed. I hadn't even figured out why when he broke the first bone and twisted that when he did it. He broke so many of them so fast, and he twisted that part of me every time he broke one, but I didn't mean to and I promise I promise I won't do it again, so please! Please don't break my tail!"

"Give me your tail, Pet," Zarbon replied. Dark, terrified eyes met his for only a moment before slipping closed. Defeated resignation wrote itself across the boy's face as a sleek, flattened-furred tail was deposited to rest in his hands. Zarbon felt along the bones, remembering how the boy had twitched and flinched before he'd gone into the tank, and saw the same reaction though the bones had healed. "Tell me, Pet, when was the last time?"

"Only a little while before I first saw you," Brolli whispered. "Please, Master, I won't do it again. Please don't break my tail?"

Zarbon considered his options even as he spoke. "I've no intention of breaking your tail, Pet. However, you will learn to touch yourself with it by the end of this week, or I will take it, entirely."

"Take it?" Brolli repeated. "I don't understand, Master, how would you take it?"

"I will cut it off your backside, and force you to wear it wrapped around your penis until a new tail grows back, or it rots."

"Master?"

"What?"

"How long is it until the end of the week?"

Zarbon stuck the tail in his mouth and sucked, hard. Brolli yelped, then writhed beneath him as he added a swirling tongue to the suction. He crouched down over the youth, his hair spilling onto the Saiyan's chest and over his shoulders to pool on the bed. He pulled the tail free, releasing it entirely, and captured the gasping mouth. "Three ship cycles, Pet," he murmured as he drew back. He sat up again, staring down at his pet, then shifted, pushing the boy from his bed to the floor.

"You will receive no touches or kisses until those three cycle are up. You are forbidden to touch anyone else, or to allow anyone else to touch you, until you are able to touch and tease yourself with your tail. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Master." The young Saiyan crawled to the mat in the corner Zarbon had designated as his bed. The last few cycles had been heaven for him, if confusing. He'd never been touched so gently before in his life, nor so often without pain. No one had ever shown him that his tail could be used to do more than hurt him, but Zarbon had used it to create intense sensations that he couldn't name and craved to feel again. Now, it was to be as it was before, with no touch, or rather, no painless touches.

Brolli shivered. He never touched his own tail except for when he had it wrapped around his waist. He had rarely used it to touch others, and was used to only feeling pain when it was in another's hands. Now his fingers crept cautiously for the twitching fur that he kept pulling out of his own reach.

His master was sleeping before his anger at himself overrode his sense. He grabbed for his tail, slashing it wildly into his palm, and closed his fist tightly to prevent himself from pulling free. A familiar lancing pain shot up his spine; teeth bit through a lower lip to stifle the pained whine that wanted to escape. Brolli refused to let go, pulling his reluctant, newly broken tail to that other thing that had only been used for pain before his Master, and wrapped his tail tightly around it.

Too tightly, but he ignored the painful pull and captured tail and penis with his free hand before loosing his other to make sure he couldn't escape himself. More whining threatened to escape as fragile bone snapped in his grip, blood flowing from his bitten lip as he refused to cave into the pain. His Master said he had to touch himself if he wanted the gentle touches. He would learn, because Master wanted him to touch himself. He would learn, because otherwise Master would be just like Father, and he would never be touched gently again.

Both hands wrapped tightly around his most sensitive parts. Brolli let the tears flow; let the blood flow as another bone cracked under the force of his grip. He could feel the bruises forming, but he dared not relax his grip, because he was still trying to pull his abused tail free. He couldn't relax until he stopped trying to escape himself.

Zarbon dropped the dish of meat by the boy, refilled the water dish. "Are you touching yourself, Pet?"

"Yes, Master." Brolli sat back, spreading his legs so his master could see the tail wrapped around his penis.

"Good boy. Perhaps I shall give you a bit of a reward." Zarbon dropped one hand to card through matted spikes. "You need a bath, Pet. Take one before I return. Use your tail to clean yourself for me."

"Yes, Master," Brolli agreed, watching from beneath his fringe as the green braid bounced off his master's ass one last time before vanishing as the door closed. He turned his attention o the meal left for him, but left it. Instead, he crawled, painfully slow, to the bathing room.

Carefully, he adjusted the taps the way his master had shown him, and filled the deep tub before levering himself into the heated pool. He soaked for a few minutes before kneeling and reaching for the soap. Brolli whimpered quietly as he soaped up his tail and rubbed it briskly over as much of his body as his hands could force it to reach. Rinsing was easier, since he only needed to collapse back into the tub, and rub at the fur to get all the soap free.

He washed his hair next, scrubbing out the blood that caused the matting his master had discovered. He rinsed his face again when he was done, feeling the sluggish dripping of freshly welled blood from his recently scrubbed wounds, until the water was a light pink. He gave up then and emptied the tub. It was easy enough to get himself out of the tub, harder to force any sort of order onto his hair. He persevered, until the long locks were securely braided and tied in place. He rewrapped his tail around himself, using another of Zarbon's many ties to ensure the broken thing could not fall free, and took the added precaution of breaking six of the bones nearest his backside to ensure he wouldn't continue to attempt to jerk loose.

Brolli crawled back over to his mat. His blood blended well with the mat's color, but it already smelled. Zarbon's scenting must be less than his own, if he hadn't smelt it. Brolli quickly bundled the mat and shoved it through the hole for dirty clothing before stripping Zarbon's bed and sending the bedding after his mat.

A fresh mat and bedding from the closet soon took the place of the dirtied items. Brolli tidied up a few other things, then returned to the bathroom to scrub out the tub. Those tasks complete, he returned to his mat. He settled on his stomach, trapping his tail-wrapped penis between himself and the floor, and put his hands behind his back. He stayed in that position until his hunger grew to the point he could no longer ignore it. He rocked forward, grinding his groin into the mat, in order to get a bite of the cubed meat Zarbon had left for him.

He counted the pain as his punishment for still not being able to touch himself willingly, and went for another bite.

"Well, Zarbon, how is your pet Saiyan's training coming?"

"Quite well, Lord Frieza. It seems his father kept him quite sheltered. He is astonishingly eager to learn to please me," Zarbon replied carefully.

"Only you, Zarbon?" Frieza demanded sharply.

"Oh, by the time I am through training him, he will be as eager to please Dodoria or the entirety of the Ginyu Force as he will to please me alone." Zarbon smiled, thinking of the pretty child he'd left in his rooms. "I have no doubts about this, my lord."

"Let me know when he is trained enough to be of use."

"Of course, my lord, but it may be some time."

"Why is that?"

Zarbon examined the screen in front of him. "He is completely uneducated, my lord. The child doesn't even know how to masturbate yet, much less give another pleasure. It seems his father was one of _those_."

"Ew. Very well. Let me know how his training proceeds."

"Of course, Lord Frieza. Now, this E'arth that gave your Saiyans so much trouble…."

Two hours before the end of the third cycle, Brolli presented himself to the small medical lab where Zarbon had taken him once before. He spent an hour and a half in the tank before hurrying back to Zarbon's quarters. He took a quick shower and fought his hair back into a braid before going to kneel next to his master's bed.

Zarbon entered the room exactly four minutes later, and brought company. "Pet, come sit on my lap."

Brolli moved willingly, curling into Zarbon's lap with a little sigh of pleasure, tail curling lazily along his cock. Zarbon stroked his tail, flicking the head of his cock with a thumbnail when he reached it. "Go give Jeice a kiss for me, Pet."

"He's a pretty thing, for a monkey."

"He is." Zarbon gave the departing rump a soft smack, smiling as Brolli flowed into Jeice's lap with no hesitation, and began to kiss him. "He's very affectionate, as well."

A flushed, panting Jeice agreed before greedily kissing his pet again, orange fingers busily mapping the boy's skin. "I'd like your assistance in training him."

"Oh, yeah?" Jeice grabbed the boy's braid, pulling him slightly away from himself. "Why's that?"

"Hadn't you heard?" Zarbon jibbed. "That Saiyan is a virgin. Completely and totally uncorrupted. You're the second person to ever kiss him. When it is time to teach him about double penetration, I want you to help him lose his virginity in that regard."

"How soon?" Jeice was stroking the boy's tail-wrapped cock, his pet making the most appealing little noises as he wriggled on the man's lap. Muscled legs spread to allow the orange fingers more room to play.

"Hm. Come here, Brolli." The boy slid from Jeice's lap with gratifying promptness to curl back up against him. He turned the boy to face his guest, urged the boy to spread and lift his legs as he stroked the length of tail and dripping cock. Semen-slicked fingers probed at the boy's rear, Jeice watching closely as Zarbon pressed two fingers through the tight ring.

Brolli whined, his tail uncurling from his cock to wrap around Zarbon's wrist. To both men's surprise, the boy forced Zarbon's fingers deeper instead of trying to pull him out. Zarbon obliged him, twisting and scissoring his fingers until he made the youth arch and wail in pleasure. Semen coated the boy's stomach and chest, a few drops clinging to both his face and Zarbon's. Zarbon continued to lazily finger him as he watched Jeice approach.

"Lemme lick you clean, Zarbon. And the kid, too."

He nodded. Jeice licked the droplets from his cheek. "The boy's sweet. You had a taste? Oh, you gotta try." Jeice licked a long line from the boy's stomach to a nipple, and kissed him. Zarbon opened his mouth, and had to agree his boy was sweet. When Jeice dove back for more, he turned his pet enough to lick the semen from his face and neck.

The youth moaned, arching beneath their tongues, his cock quickly refilling as Zarbon continued to finger him. A third finger joined the first two. "Touch yourself, Pet. Stroke yourself with your tail."

Fur slid against his wrist and Jeice let out a yelp as it brushed him on its way to the boy's cock. Zarbon could feel the rhythmic strokes against his wrist as the boy began to pleasure himself. He indulged himself with the boy's mouth, feeling Jeice's weight as the man pressed himself against them as he licked semen and teased taut nipples. "Suck him, Jeice," he commanded, and smirked as the boy gasped into his kiss when the other did as ordered.

It wasn't very much longer before the boy was gasping and moaning, pleading in broken Saiyan mixed with Ship Standard. Zarbon smiled, adding a fourth finger and pushing in hard. Brolli screamed, convulsing on his lap. Jeice pulled free shortly afterward, to lazily lick the sticky cock and tail clean. Zarbon pulled his fingers free, prompting more leakage for Jeice, and teasingly offered his fingers. Jeice sucked each one as eagerly as he'd sucked the boy.

"From his response, I don't imagine it will be very long," Zarbon said complacently. "Come back in a week, and we'll see how he's progressed. Perhaps by then I'll have trained him enough that he'll be able to take care of this for you." He stroked Jeice's straining erection, smiling as Jeice shuddered under his touch. He rose, put the boy in his bed, and went back to his guest.

Clothing was peeled down only enough to provide access, mouth finding a rigid cock and tongue swirling as he sucked the other to rapid completion. Jeice left dazed and happy. Zarbon returned to his bed, admiring the young Saiyan sprawled haphazardly across it. "I think, Pet, it's time to learn something new."

"Yes, please, Master!"

Zarbon crawled between splayed legs. "You're ready for me now, my Brolli?"

"Yes…?"

He heard the question. "You wanted my fingers to be in deeper, Brolli? To fill you, to stretch you, to make you mine?"

"Oh, yes, Master!" The young cock stirred, valiantly trying to respond to the boy's lust.

"You are ready to become mine, my Pet?" He spread the boy's legs more, pushed them back and apart.

"Please, please, Master!"

He positioned himself as Brolli's tail slid over his cock as it had his wrist, tiny little tugs urging him to press and take. He thrust into Saiyan heat, captured the cry as the boy shrieked in pained pleasure. Hands gripped his shoulders, shifted to grab his hips and urge him deeper. Zarbon took his Saiyan fully, deeply, responding to every gasped, begging cry of "Oh, please," and "Master!" and the wordless, vocal urgings from the willing, wriggling, eager boy with deeper, harder thrusts and slightly shifted positions.

Brolli writhed, mind alight with the various touches his master was gifting him with. His body strained to assure that no part of Zarbon did not touch his at some point, his mouth gasping the words and sounds that made his Master touch him more. That strange feeling was building again, more intense and more complex than when Master had let Jeice touch him as well.

Mad with pleasure, Brolli let himself free, offered his everything to the green-haired beauty who had given him so much he had never known. His power built around them, the limiters unable to keep up with the energy he produced, and his tail and fingers raked Zarbon's back, sides, and ass. His tail stroked down the cleft, found the same opening on Zarbon that the man was using to give him such wonder, and he tried to return the favor.

Zarbon slammed his hips hard into the young Saiyan, eyes wild as the boy's furry tail probed his insides. The boy arched, baring his neck, his power crackling the air around them. Zarbon lunged, teeth breaking skin as the boy thrust into him once more. A wordless wail of utter satisfaction escaped the boy as he bit down harder and shoved deeper. The boy convulsed under and around him, orgasm rippling violently as the youth wrapped arms and legs around Zarbon and wailed. Zarbon's own body responded, leaving him spent and shaken at the force of their coupling.

He rolled, the boy with him, and he pulled the blond head to his chest, tucked comfortably under his chin. It wasn't until hours later he realized his little Saiyan pet had done the impossible, and dropped his soup in his lap.


	7. Pirate

Turles surveyed the data sent by the probe, and the rest of the data scrolling in on various screens. He turned his attention to the viewport, negligently tapping the scouter fastened over his eye. Several unusually high readings met his inquiry. One stood out, and he knew without a doubt that he'd found one of the Saiyans that had come to the planet.

He tucked a finger in his pocket, stroking over the seed that rested there. Only one reading high enough to be a Saiyan, but the reports indicated three surviving Saiyans. The reports could be wrong, and a smirk twisted his lips as he recognized the plain truth of the idea.

Turles chose to leave the crew on the ship, and went alone to investigate the highest signal. Another Saiyan sat in front of three oddly shaped rocks; rocks he soon realized were inscribed with two of the three missing Saiyans' names. "Where is Nappa?" he asked.

"He is buried on the battlefield where he died." Dull black eyes met his. "Are you here to try to destroy this world too?"

The absolute lack of anything living in those eyes chilled him. "If I am?"

"Then I'll bury you, too." A hand reached to touch one of the stones. "My son won't be here to help me this time, but my brother and our prince won't be able to help you."

"Your son?" Turles studied the other Saiyan more closely. They were very, very similar, but there was a lack of spirit about the other that made him seem already dead. "You went native?"

"Went native? I was an earthling, as far as I knew. I only found out about my arrival, and the accident that took my memories, after Raditz came. Gohan was four years old before I learned I was Saiyan. A year later, I had no family left."

Turles had noticed the braids by then. "Whose hair have you braided into your own?"

One hand crept up to touch first one braid, "Vegeta," and the other, "my brother, Raditz."

He was too late, then. Jaded and empty as the Saiyan seemed, he had already claimed the kingdom. This man had felled three Saiyans, one of them the Prince himself. Turles knew himself no match for the other, even in his current listless state. "My king." He dropped to one knee, arm crossing over his chest in a salute. "My ship awaits your command."

"Ship?"

"My spaceship. We are ready to leave at any time, if you desire to rescue the last of our race from Frieza."

"Frieza? I thought the Saiyans worked for Frieza?"

Turles snorted. "You don't, and I'm a space pirate. I work for whoever provides the best fee. But this other, Brolli, has been taken as a slave by one of Frieza's lieutenants. From all reports, he has been made a pet. A pleasure slave."

"Do you know where they are?"

Ah, so this new king would not leave a subject enslaved. Turles watched the king uncurl and rise. "They are on Frieza's flagship, headed for the planet Namek."

"You'll take me there."

Turles approved of the steely determination in his voice and the fighting glitter that had filled his eyes. "Of course, my king. I am Turles."

His king frowned, looking at the graves. "Vegeta and Raditz called me Kakarot. I am more used to the name Goku."

"Goku is not a Saiyan name."

"No, it isn't." The man looked around him. "Everything I care for is here." He bent, picking up a small satchel. "Where is your ship?"

"Follow me, King Kakarot." Turles stifled a chuckle at the king's wince, and took off for the skies. He let the seed fall where it would as the king followed him to his ship. There was one free room, and Turles soon had his new king quartered and fed. He left the new Saiyan king sleeping. The tree bore fruit the next day. He gathered it, checked the still sleeping king, and ordered his crew to Namek.


	8. King

He reached to touch the mirror image, fingers gliding over features that seemed somehow older, fiercer than those he remembered as his. Glittering eyes startled him with the intensity of the lust within, and he sucked in an agitated breath. To make love to oneself... how strange and wondrous would it be? His hand dropped, but the other's came up to cup his cheek, to pull him forward into a kiss unlike any he'd had.

Strong lips devoured his, tongue brutally forcing entry. Goku conceded, allowing Turles his victory, allowing him to claim and ravish his mouth. His legs weakened under the other's more forceful personality, and he dropped, pulling Turles with him to the bed behind them, tilting his head to accommodate the other Saiyan. Turles pushed him back, ripping his shirt from his torso, throwing it to the floor. Goku moaned into the other man's mouth, hips grinding against the ones pressing down onto him.

Turles reached down, stripping his loose pants free as easily as he had the shirt. Goku reached between them, his fingers fumbling at the unfamiliar armor, trying to get it off. Turles pulled back, ripping his armor free and stripping quickly out of his uniform before shoving Goku further onto the bed. Goku dug his fingers into the other man's shoulders, willingly baring his neck to the savage, biting kisses, wrapping his legs around the other's waist to force the other closer.

It was a savage mating. Turles pulled back only long enough to line up, and then Goku was screaming as the older man plunged fully within, screamed as the man set a frantic, hard pace that kept Goku gasping for air and pleading desperately, though he wasn't sure if he was pleading for his lover to stop or give him more.

The bed was a bloody, sticky mess when the older Saiyan finished with him. Goku's neck bled nearly as much as his ass: Turles being as gentle with his teeth as he had been with his thrusts. They lay together, damp with sweat, sticky with ejaculate, until Turles pulled free with a fresh rush of blood. Goku stared up at him as the other stared down, his tail curling around a brawny thigh. "Stay with me?" he asked quietly, unwilling to let the other go just yet.

"Move over." Turles crawled into the space he made, and cradled him against his chest. "You're mine, now, Kakarot."

Goku didn't protest, just nodded. His ass ached and his neck hurt, but he'd never felt safer than he did now, wrapped in his double's arms. Turles would take care of him. He didn't need to be the savior, not just yet. They weren't to Namek yet.

Goku laid quietly next to his lover, drinking in the other Saiyan's scent, enhanced by their recent coupling. Turles stayed with him now, indulging him with the warmth and comfort of his body. The quiet time after their savage couplings was something Goku treasured, the only time he felt safe and at peace. Naturally, his mouth just had to open. "Why did you come?"

"Hard not to when I'm fucking you."

"No… I meant… I…" Goku sighed, and twisted to face Turles. "Earth. Why did you go to Earth to start with? You said it was to get me, but… why?"

Turles laughed. "I wondered when you'd get around to asking. Only took you three months. You're a bit slow, King."

Goku twisted back around, shoulders hunching defensively. It had been stupid of him to bother asking after so long. He should have asked before he crawled into Turles' bed that first time. His legs curled up, too, remembering that that had taken only two days and the touch of a tail looping lazily over his shoulders.

He wasn't any less susceptible to that tail, or the other Saiyan's scent yet either. He relaxed slightly as Turles stroked his thigh with that irresistible tail. "I was on my way to that planet because I knew the prince had died there. I wanted to see what kind of backwoods world could defeat four Saiyan warriors."

A finger prodded the back of his skull, right over the scar from his accident. "I should have known it would be an amnesiac Saiyan who'd gone native, but still knew enough to take over the kingdom. And once I found out what had really happened, I couldn't very well leave you behind, could I, King? Not with Brolli enslaved," his lover ended with a snarl.

Goku blinked, twice. Then closed his eyes and tried to order whirling, confused thoughts. Just when and how exactly had he taken over what kingdom, and why did he have the now distressing idea that King wasn't a nickname his lover had given him? How could he have taken over the Saiyan kingdom, he wondered, only now remembering how Turles had knelt before him that first day. He hadn't done it by force, because he hadn't actually killed any of the Saiyans. Piccolo had killed Raditz and himself, Vegeta had killed Nappa, and Krillin had killed Vegeta. He wasn't related to Vegeta that he knew of, so he couldn't've inherited the title the way Gohan would have inherited his, so how in the world had he….

Fingers stroked over the braid of Vegeta's hair. "Claimed the kingdom before I got there, and any family title, too." The finger moved to the other braid. "I don't think there was one, but you wouldn't have known. Just a babe when you were sent out. Right before our planet was destroyed, most likely, considering your age."

Goku blinked. The _braid_ was his claim to the crown? Well, that made no sense whatsoever, but he wasn't asking any more questions. He'd been called slow or stupid entirely too often in his life, and he wasn't giving his lover the opportunity to do it again. He snuggled a little closer to the older man, and yawned. "I'm sleepy."

"Go to sleep, then," Turles replied softly, tail and hands stroking him soothingly. "Dream well."


	9. Limits

Brolli purred happily, curled on his mat. His master was gone, off to tend to his duties again, but had left him with a large dish of meat and plenty of water. He'd also left him Jeice. Brolli shot a quick look at the other man to see if he'd woken and was ready to play more, but Jeice was still splayed half on and half off the couch, completely out.

Brolli selected a bit of the meat with his tail, and took his time nibbling it from the sensitive tip. Zarbon had promised him a treat later, if he behaved. The purr stuttered slightly, brows narrowing, as Brolli tried to determine if he hadn't behaved at some point. Zarbon was much nicer to him than his father ever had been, so much so that Brolli had never felt the need to be remotely defiant, as he had with his father.

He reached up, touching the limiter on his forehead, and then played for a while with the ones on his arms. He liked the dangling charms that made them seem more like jewelry than technology to cage him. Brolli sat up, his frown back, the purr gone. Cage him? Was he caged? Glassy eyes met his when he looked at Jeice, so he asked. "Am I caged?"

"Caged?" Jeice scrubbed at his eyes before he realized he was upside down, and got himself righted. He yawned, trying to talk at the same time. "What do you mean?"

"Am I being caged?"

Jeice stared at him, then frowned. "We're on a spaceship, kid, and you're not in the brig."

"What's a brig?" Brolli asked after considering that.

"Jail." Jeice sighed as Brolli just looked at him. "Look, kid, you're Zarbon's pet. You're his slave. You gotta do what he says when he says, or he'll punish you. He decides if you eat, sleep, fuck, fight, or whatever. He's got all the control over your life: He can decide if you die. Got me?"

"I knew that," Brolli replied with a derisive sniff. "I want to know if I'm caged."

"Ask your master when he gets back, then," Jeice grumped. "He's the one who decides if you can go anywhere."

"Okay," Brolli agreed cheerfully. "Do you want to play?"

Jeice groaned. "You're an insatiable brat."

Brolli nodded. "Master tells me that all the time. Do you want to play?"

"Neh, not now. Why don't you tail fuck yourself?"

"Okay!" Brolli grinned. He enjoyed doing that, and decided to thank his Master again for helping him learn to touch himself with his tail again. He shifted the pillows around so that he reclined facing Jeice, legs pulled up and splayed the way he'd learned the other man liked to see him. One hand lazily stroked his cock, the other rubbing and plucking at his nipples.

He knew Jeice liked to watch him play with himself before he actually fucked himself, so he stared his tail sweeping slowly and tantalizingly over his chest and stomach, dipped it to curl around his balls, brought it back to glide up and down toned thighs. He would brush above and below his anus every so often, go back to circle it with puffed out fur, and then dart it away again to stroke and tease another part of himself.

Brolli was gasping, dripping, and Jeice stroking himself before he finally allowed himself any penetration. Jeice gasped, groaning as the tail came right back out to circle before plunging in deeply. Brolli arched his back, keening as he forced his tail as far as he could take it as he'd been practicing for his master. His fingers grasped himself a little too firmly, making him wail and ejaculate over his upturned face. Even so, he continued the slightly painful thrusts until Jeice, too, was covered in white streams. He pulled his tail free to regard the matted fur with disfavor, and held it high behind himself as he slinked over to lick Jeice clean.

"I'm taking a bath," he announced once he'd gotten the last sticky drop. "I like to do that, but it gets my tail all yucky."

Jeice eyed him, and then waved leniently towards the bathing room. "Go on then. I'll take another nap." He was snoring softly before Brolli made it to the bathroom door.

Brolli used bubbles, lots of bubbles. He loved that his master let him play in the bubbles as often and as long as he liked, and never hit him for "indulging in childish, immature behavior" as his father always had. Aside from the troubling question on whether or not he was caged, Brolli far preferred this new life, and had come to dread the thought of his father coming after him. Zarbon laughed at him, sure, but it was a kinder laughter. He answered questions without referring to Brolli as stupid, or foolish, or an imbecile.

Not that his green-haired beauty of a master didn't get mad at him. He knew perfectly well he irritated the older man rather frequently, but it seemed that Zarbon had an infinite amount of patience when it came to training or teaching him so he wouldn't be so irritating. He'd only made his master truly angry once, and his punishment had been on such a different scale than what he was used to that he'd decided that he would never ever anger the man again. He did not want to spend another week not being touched and only hearing his Master's voice from the hall. Brolli shivered. He'd much rather have one of his father's bone-breaking beatings than have Zarbon ignore him.

He heard the hall door swish open, and the exchange of conversation. His master entered the bath a few minutes later. "Little one, you have a question?"

Brolli stretched lazily, sitting up. Bubbles slid down a nicely toned chest to join the others in the bathwater. "Yes, Master. Am I caged?"

"Caged?" Zarbon looked as confused as Jeice had. "Do you wish to leave my quarters, pet? That can be arranged, although there are some restricted areas you will not be allowed to enter."

Brolli frowned. He hadn't even considered leaving Zarbon's quarters, perfectly content with his life within them. "That's not what I meant. These." He tugged on bubble-coated bangles. "Are these cages?"

"Ah." Zarbon settled into the chair at the dressing table. "Why do you think they are?"

"Father used limiter technology to keep my power contained so that he could control me, keep me caged. They were designed to hurt me if I went outside his limits."

"I see." An unhappy little frown appeared as Zarbon reached out to touch the circlet on his forehead. "These do limit your power, of course. You have never had control over your own power, and the level is," – Zarbon paused, remembering the blond hair from months before – "enough to kill you without the control the limiters provide."

"Ohhhh!" Brolli's eyes widened. "But it feels like they… suck it out. Father's pushed it in. I had such awful headaches all the time."

"My limiters are designed to shunt some of your excess power to me." Zarbon set one of his earrings swaying with a gentle tap. "In my line of work, a little extra power can mean the difference between my life or death."

"Oh!" The boy smiled. "That's good then. But, Master, shouldn't I learn how to control my own power?"

"Yes," Zarbon returned without hesitation. "It is dangerous for you not to learn, but I had to wait until you were ready for the lessons."

Brolli crinkled his nose. "Don't I have enough lessons?" he complained.

"Obviously not," Zarbon retorted sharply, "if you've time to loll about in my bathtub and complain about them. You'll begin lessons on control in the morning. For now," Zarbon stripped and slipped into the tub, "you can wash my back for me. Ginyu spilt something sticky on me, and it itches!"

Brolli giggled at his master's fretting, and set about removing the sticky stuff.


	10. Learning

Goku opened his eyes wearily. Another training disc completed. He laid the headset aside and made himself more comfortable on the bed as he began reviewing the new information he'd forced himself to listen to. He'd long since decided he was the king of a race of bastards who were better off dead, so it was a good thing the only three of them left were males. Not that that meant they couldn't have kids, just that any kids would be part something better, like his Gohan had been.

He sighed. It no longer seemed like yesterday that he had felt his son die, watched his prince murdered. Now, it seemed a distant nightmare, another life. If he was honest with himself, it had been a different life. Now he was the King of the Saiyans, a pirate's lover, and… wanting it all to end. Okay, so at least one thing hadn't changed. He still hated himself, it seemed. Turles' little abuses, like Chi-Chi's, were something he deserved for not being good enough. Not a good enough husband, good enough father, good enough lover, good enough king. The only thing he proved consistently was that he was a good enough fighter, easily winning any spars he engaged in.

The tapes were sparking something within him, though. Some of the things he was learning seemed almost familiar. It was just, nothing he learned was anything he was comfortable with. His was a warrior race, one that seemed to have a great deal of pride in its strength, and little in the way of honor. Goku had been raised to be honorable.

Which was why he'd gotten married to Chi-Chi. He'd agreed to marry her before he knew what it meant, and held to his word, still not knowing what it was he was doing. Goku hunched forward, fisting his fingers in his hair. Turles had told him he was his: had he somehow married the other Saiyan without knowing he'd done so? He tugged harshly once, twice, and then grabbed for the next of the educational discs.

"Hey, King, you'll miss supper if you don't hurry."

Goku looked up, his dark eyes full of misery. "You're my mate," he said softly.

"Yeah, of course. You gonna come eat?" Turles approached their bed, noting the number of discs littering it. "Or you planning on listening to more of those damned tapes?"

Goku returned to his examination of his toes as viewed from between the arms clasping drawn up knees. "I'm not hungry."

Turles frowned. Kakarot hadn't changed a whole lot from when he'd first brought him aboard. His eyes were still empty most of the time, flat and lifeless. That changed when he was sparring, getting fucked, and sometimes when he ate. However, Turles had been having more and more trouble convincing his king to eat much of anything. Eyes narrowed. "Are you pregnant?"

Goku looked up, sheer shock writ across his features. "Pregnant?"

"Pregnant Saiyans have episodes where they won't eat. Haven't learned that yet?"

"I'm… male," Goku protested.

"You're Saiyan, Kakarot. Some of our males can get pregnant, and it's usually the lower classed warriors, like us." Turles gestured to the tapes. "It's on one of them."

Goku focused his attention on himself, then shook his head. "I'm not pregnant. It's just…." He trailed off, unwilling to be ridiculed again.

Turles watched him a few moments before seating himself by the younger man and pulling him close. "King, shit happens. That's just how life is. Now, if you aren't pregnant, what's with you not eating?"

Goku sighed, and leaned into the muscled warmth of his mate. "When I first got married, it was because I had given my word that I would. I didn't know what marriage was, but she was gonna cry if I said no. It was a couple years after that that I saw her again, and she reminded me of my promise. I still hadn't learned what marriage was, but I was raised to keep my word, so I did."

Turles grunted, wondering how long it would be before he could get something to eat. His king's next words were much like a super-powered sucker punch. "I mated with you the same way. I didn't know what I was saying meant I wanted to be your mate, or that you agreed to anything so…." Goku shook his head. "So permanent and serious."

"So you don't want to be my mate?" Turles growled.

"What?" Goku tipped his head up just enough to recognize just how seriously pissed the other male was. He curled in on himself even more. Turles would be even more brutal with him tonight than usual, no matter what he said, and he knew he would allow it because he had earned that brutality. Why had he said anything? Had he really expected Turles to understand his bewilderment at how he'd gotten himself married without his knowledge again? To be happy with being mated to an idiot?

Goku cringed. Of course he hadn't. Turles was growling at him, so he'd better come up with a better answer than a stupid question. "I…"

But he was too late. Turles flung him from the bed, rounded on him where he fell. "Too bad, King. You're mine."

Goku didn't have another chance to try to explain. He accepted the punishment his mate gave him as passively as he could, as he had accepted Chi-Chi's beatings with the frying pan when he'd been particularly stupid. Turles left him battered and bloodied, trembling with the knowledge that his snarling mate would be back to finish the lesson when he'd had a meal.

He added not being a good enough mate to his list of failures, and arranged himself for the viciousness he knew was coming. Stupid he might be, but he was learning.


	11. Leaving

Turles stormed from their shared room, leaving his mate a bloodied, bitten mess. He'd had to leave, or he would have ended by killing the other man. Not that that would be a bad thing, he mused, grabbing more food to take to his room. The room he hadn't slept in since his king had accepted him as his mate.

He tore into his meal angrily. He'd been accepted, but he wasn't wanted. Well, if that was what his king wanted, his king could have. Turles sneered. He hadn't been accepted as a mere consort. No, the king had accepted him his first mate. Let his king find out what that meant. Kakarot might be the ruler of the Saiyan race, but let his mate find out just what it meant to spurn him.

Somewhat satisfied with his decision, he fell into the bed. There was no Kakarot to curl around, but that hardly mattered. Kakarot hadn't been a fixture in his life that long. One of the slaves would do to serve his needs. He called for one.

Turles made it a point to fulfill every royal duty he had to his king. He made daily reports of the crew's status, since the crew comprised the current Saiyan military, and progress reports on how much further they had to get to Namek. He requested permission for leave stops when they ran low on supplies, and suppressed his amusement at the king's distress when he reported how much they'd earned selling the slaves. He had also relayed to the crew that they wouldn't be slaving for a while, since that particular report had lead to Kakarot's first-ever royal command.

Turles saw to it that meals were delivered when Kakarot failed to join the crew for meals. He dragged the other Saiyan out of his room to the training area and forced him to spar if he failed to train more than two days in a row. Then he would leave his king to solitary training, returning if necessary to take him back to his room.

His room, now, not theirs. Turles never went beyond the doorway, no matter how long he felt those still empty black eyes following him. His mate had spurned him, and had yet to say anything to prove he'd come to his senses. Turles had no problem with allowing his mate to know that he was sleeping with others from the ship, though he did make sure that everyone knew Kakarot was not to know there were still unsold slaves aboard. He merely waited. His mate was a Saiyan, and it wouldn't be that long before Kakarot would be needing him, making proper restitution for having decided he wasn't an acceptable mate after all.

He did make sure to continue Kakarot's education. The disks were leftovers from his own original pod, and any he was able to scavenge from the marketplaces of the planets they visited, or worlds where he had tracked old Saiyan pods. He would not have an uneducated lunkhead to introduce to Frieza as the new King of the Saiyans, and really, if he'd had any sense, he would have realized that there was no need to pledge himself to the other Saiyan. Fuckin' protocol… and the niggling, lingering fear of the expressionlessly stated first threat to kill him.

Two months later, Turles gave more serious consideration to simply becoming the next king. It wouldn't be that hard to kill the shell on the other side of the door. Kakarot had very nearly killed himself already, with his refusal to eat most of what Turles delivered to him and his failure to train. Kakarot hadn't raised a hand to defend himself against anyone over the last…. Hm. Turles checked the report in his hand. Two weeks. And he still hadn't apologized for spurning him, either. Nor had he come begging as Turles had expected after having been deprived of sex.

It wouldn't be hard to become king. Probably wouldn't take more than snapping his neck. He'd have to go through that god-awful pain again, though, since Kakarot had effectively, if not publicly, renounced him. He snarled, and opened the door.

Kakarot looked up from the nest he'd made of his blankets, black eyes meeting his for only a moment before sliding away. His king – he snorted – looked down at the disks scattered across the bed and began gathering them up. "I've finished with these," he said softly, carefully setting several aside.

"I'll find you some more." Turles moved inside, scooped the discs up, flipping through them quickly to see what his king had finished before tucking them into the pouch at his side. "I've today's reports."

"Turles, I…." This time, those usually empty eyes held an emotion, one not proper for a Saiyan. Turles sneered slightly, and Kakarot looked back down, silent once more.

"What is it, King?'

"I… I want… to know what… what I did wrong." Kakarot hugged his knees, keeping his head down, his voice soft.

"What you did wrong?" What hadn't he done wrong? "Which time?"

Kakarot flinched. His already soft voice was a barely audible whisper. "To make you leave."

"I'm right here, Kakarot. I haven't left." Turles scowled, wondering what game his king was trying to play.

"You… left. Here." A short, aborted movement Turles couldn't decipher. "Me. I thought… you'd be back. To finish, but… you left. So… cold."

Turles' scowl darkened. "Make sense, Kakarot."

He heard the other Saiyan swallow hard, heard the soft rasp of a tongue over dry lips.


	12. Unexpected Assassin

Brolli looked around curiously. It was his first time out of Zarbon's quarters since he had gone to the tanks so very long ago. This section of the ship was colder, and somehow more… like his father's wing of his old home. A sudden shiver raised the fur on his tail, and he wrapped it a bit more firmly around his waist. That was not a good thought. It was a very worrying thought. He had known that he was going to see Zarbon's Lord Frieza today, but he hadn't really thought about it.

The idea that Frieza might be like his father…. No, he couldn't be. Father had hated Frieza, had cursed his name. Brolli fully expected to like the lord he'd never seen just because of that, but now these similarities…. Could it be the two were more alike than he had expected? That Frieza was like his father?

He didn't realize he'd stopped until the chain fastened to the collar on his neck snapped taut and jerked him forward once more. Zarbon cast him an annoyed glare that he shrank from even as he hurried to resume his proper place behind the taller male. His master was counting on him to show well before his lord, to prove how well trained he was. Already he was failing! He had to do better, or Zarbon would ignore him again. He couldn't bear that, not again.

A huge door whooshed open in front of them. He blinked, shivering with the sudden rush of cold and too-bright light, kneeling a moment or two later than he should have at his master's feet. "My lord," the beloved voice intoned, "my pet is ready for inspection."

Brolli woke disorientated, confused, and yet certain he had failed his master somehow. Why else would he be seeing the world through the muted green glow of the goop in a rejuvenation tank? A soft whine made its way past the mask as he tried to remember what he had done to result in needing tanked. What he had done to fail his master, to earn the punishment that would follow when he was returned to his master's quarters.

His tail lashed through the goop as he forced his mind to tell him what had happened, and came up with nothing. Nothing, beyond his master saying he was ready for inspection. What had he done? Had he been so disobedient that he'd been beaten unconscious? Zarbon had told him he would be displaying his training, nothing that would have resulted in needing a tank.

Slowly he became aware of the figures beyond the green. One so tall, one shorter, puffier. His master, and Jeice. The little man couldn't do anything with that shock of white hair, and it always made him look puffy – though Brolli had only told him so once. He'd learned very quickly the only thing worse than Zarbon ignoring him was Jeice bent on tickling him until he was sick.

He couldn't see them very well. Brolli closed his eyes, opened them. So, he'd been so bad he'd had his eyes damaged as well. He slumped as much as the tank allowed, his wavering gaze fixed as firmly as he could manage on the silhouette of his master, tail drifting limply.

"Zarbon? I think he might be awake this time."

Zarbon looked up at Jeice's hesitant remark, to find his pet's eyes open again. He approached the tank slowly, noting with some irritation that the Saiyan had obvious difficulty focusing on him. Still, there did appear to be intelligence in those dark eyes this time, so perhaps his pet was close to being healed?

He pressed one hand to the tank, waited. It took almost a minute before the Saiyan raised a hand and slowly reached to cover his. A relief he wouldn't admit to sent his head sinking to lean against the tank, face angled to look at the material separating their hands. "Stupid monkey," he murmured at last, looking back up as a gentle fondness entered his tone, "you'd better heal quickly."

The boy's hand fell away, his entire body slumping and cringing away. Zarbon cursed himself for having momentarily forgotten how the Saiyan reacted when called stupid. The loosely swaying tail wrapped tightly around his waist, and Zarbon winced as a shrill buzz emanated from the tank.

"What happened?" Jeice demanded.

"He's broken his tail again," Zarbon complained. "I should just remove the entire thing so it can be properly regrown. It's far too fragile."

"We can do that," a technician informed him. "If you'd step aside so I can shut off the alarm?"

Zarbon stepped back beside Jeice. "How long to regrow the boy's tail?"

"That I can't say," the tech replied. "Saiyan physiology varies. Occasionally, even being tanked doesn't regrow a tail, but they always regenerate eventually."

Zarbon looked at the boy. His pet. He considered the state of the young man's tail when he'd first gained him, and the state it was in after several rejuvenations. "Remove his tail." He turned away, taking Jeice with him.

Brolli felt the drugs take effect. His world became disorientating flashes of sound and light, brought together by a shrill blaze that he vaguely recognized as pain before everything went completely black and silent. He thought it a dream when he woke up on his mat in Zarbon's quarters, covered with one of his master's discarded cloaks, a soft hum of conversation in his ears.

Sitting up proved difficult, but he managed to finally lean back against the wall. He reached for his tail, intending to check whether he was awake or dreaming. Then he remembered his master had ordered it taken, and instead dug long nails into his forearms.

"Stop that!" accompanied the stinging pain. Zarbon was suddenly next to him, pulling his hands away from his arms, bending to lick away the welling blood. He stared at the soft flow of green uncomprehendingly until Zarbon captured his mouth with his own. That, he knew how to respond to, and began kissing back. Zarbon allowed it for only two gasping breaths, then pushed him hard against the wall.

He whimpered, head dropping so he would not have to see the anger and disgust in his master's eyes. "Tell me your name."

Huh? He licked his lips, swallowed hard, and finally managed to whisper, "Brolli, Master Zarbon."

"Good, you remember who I am." A small relief for the boy, knowing he had pleased his master. "Who are my guests?"

He had to look up, past the slight smile on his master's face, to focus on the two guests. "One is Jeice," he replied softly. "The other I… I do not know?"

"Oh, dear…" Zarbon stood, returning to his guests to speak quietly with the one he hadn't been able to identify. Brolli bit his lower lip nervously, working it as he tried to place a name to the man. Beast? Lizard? Brolli cocked his head slightly, trying to figure out what the creature was, as well as who it was. He cringed instinctively when the male – he was able to smell the sex, at least – approached him, bending to cup his face with pointed nails.

"Poor little Saiyan," the thing said, his voice chilling Brolli, "you've forgotten your lesson? Then you must have another, and this time, you mustn't forget, monkey."

"Go with Lord Frieza, Brolli."

He rose obediently, casting one last look at his master before following the tiny lord out the door. Something bad was going to happen to him, something his master knew was going to happen and couldn't do anything to stop. He remembered the expression on his master's face, though he'd never seen Zarbon like that before. It had been his father, and he had been very young. Barely a year, certainly less than two years. And then the sword, and the pain, and the explosion, all one right after another.

He mustn't forget who this was, or the lesson. Not this time.

"At least he doesn't have his tail this time."

"That is little consolation, Jeice." Zarbon moved carefully, mindful of the welts on his back and the rawness of his ass. "He forgot everything, if he could not even name Lord Frieza."

"Here, lay down. I'll get something for that, since you can't use a tank." Jeice vacated the couch, heading for the bathroom where Zarbon kept supplies for such events.

Zarbon lay down gratefully, allowing Jeice to pull his hair around for him. "Ah, man, some of it's caught in the wounds. I thought he did a number on the kid, but you're pretty rough yourself."

"It isn't the first time." Unspoken was the idea it was unlikely to be the last.

"Yeah, I know." Jeice sponged carefully at the hair matted into the wounds, moving it aside as he freed it. "It's not the worst I've seen on ya, either." He worked in silence for several minutes. "The kid… you think he'll be okay?"

Zarbon sighed. "He's a Saiyan. It does not matter if he does everything perfectly. Our lord will punish him for having lived when he purged their world."

"No, huh?"

"No." Zarbon hissed as Jeice hit one of the more tender areas. "I had not anticipated him looking to me for confirmation of our lord's orders."

"He what? He don't do that when you have him play with me! What's the deal?"

"I am not sure," Zarbon admitted. "He grew restless and reluctant as I was taking him to Lord Frieza, but I do not know why. He was eager enough to go, and just as eager when he greeted our lord."

"Well, he knew he was going to be put through his paces, right?"

"I did explain that to him," Zarbon returned dryly.

"Hmm. Oh, hang on. This one's pretty deep." Zarbon's hissed expletive got a slight laugh. "Hey, maybe it was stage fright. I mean, he's never fucked anywhere but here, after all, and not in front of guards or anything. Maybe he was just checking to be sure he was doing good, not to be sure he was supposed to do something?"

"Ah!" Zarbon grabbed for his diadem, fingers scrabbling across it. "Ah, gods, not again!"

"What is it? What's wrong?"

Zarbon wrenched the jewel free of the diadem, throwing it across the room, and following it with the jewels he ripped hastily from his ears. Jeice tended the two smaller wounds quickly, and the burn on Zarbon's forehead before returning to the damage Frieza had caused. "You gonna explain that?"

"I… I just…." Zarbon stared in the direction of the glowing jewels. All three suddenly shattered. "I believe I just arranged Frieza's long-awaited assassination."

"What?" Jeice dodged out of the way as Zarbon rolled from the couch. He blinked as the taller man dressed with haste and no care, and then fled the room. Utter confusion gave way to curiosity. Jeice followed Zarbon.

"Brolli?" Brolli threw himself into his master's arms, shuddering and crying. "There, pet, I'm here. Now, where is Lord Frieza?"

Gold eyes followed a pointing, shaking finger, and widened. "Lord Frieza?"

"Kill that Saiyan bastard," Frieza rasped.

Zarbon stared at the remains of his about-to-be-former lord and master. "Pet, will you do something for me?" He took the mumble for agreement. "Finish killing Frieza for me?"

"Zarbon! I'll destroy you for that!"

Finding out Frieza was still capable of gathering enough energy to destroy a planet? Very bad. Watching it come for him? Terrifying. Seeing his face as Brolli screamed and powered up? That was priceless, and Zarbon hoped the cameras were still working as his red-furred pet used the captured energy to crush the lizard's head into a mushy pulp. Brolli continued with his mashing of Frieza until Jeice showed up.

"Damn!"

Brolli spun, energy forming in one hand.

"Enough, Brolli. Come, you deserve a treat." Zarbon smiled at the snarling Saiyan as the younger man turned his attention from Jeice. "Would you like a bubble bath by candlelight? Followed by handfeeding, hmm?" Two things he'd learned early on that the young Saiyan adored. He refused to allow himself to show how much Brolli's astounding power terrified him, meeting the red-rimmed eyes with the affection he no longer needed to hide. "Come, my Brolli." He held out his hand.

Brolli stared at the inviting man, one hand still glowing with gathered energy. The glowing ball faltered as he looked down at the gory mess he stood in, and remembered that this man was the one he had killed for. His hand dropped, the energy dissipating. The orange man sighed with relief, and Brolli's attention snapped back to him.

This time, though, he recognized Jeice, remembering the fun he had often had with the smaller male. He kicked a lump of something that might have once been part of an arm out of his way, and went to kneel at Zarbon's feet. Long fingers tangled in his hair and scratched just the way he liked it. He butted his head against the man's stomach, tail wrapping around Zarbon's wrist, purring when Zarbon laughed and scratched him behind the ears.

"You are safe now, Brolli," Zarbon assured the younger man. "But do tell me, whatever did Frieza do to make you tear him in half to start with?"

The purr changed to a growl even as Brolli gave up his power and relaxed into his usual form. "He threatened to kill you, Master, so he could keep me for himself."

"Gods, could he be any more stupid?" Jeice demanded, dropping to his knees next to the boy. "Are you hurt, Brolli?"

"I…." The boy licked his lips. "I really want that bath? Please?"

"Of course." Zarbon scooped him up, giving Jeice a look that sent him running ahead to run the bath. He paused long enough to look at one of the guards. "I'll be taking charge when I've settled my pet."

It amused him no end when that guard wet his pants.


	13. Uncertain Advances

They'd finally arrived at Namek, apparently before Frieza. Goku was the first one off the ship, his ki trail gone from the sky before Turles made it to the hatch. The older Saiyan just shrugged and set about giving the usual orders, with a few extras since they were expecting Frieza eventually, and because his fuckin' mate was a pacifist, of all things.

He knew perfectly well the other Saiyan had gone off to have a good cry. Kakarot was overly emotional for a Saiyan, but having finally learned his mate's past, Turles was trying to be understanding. Not that he succeeded all that well, but he did try. Even if he didn't regret in the least having planted that tree, since those fools had deserved their fate. Making a pacifist out of a warrior! The idea!

Besides, he and his mate had reaped the benefits of the fruit. Frieza wouldn't stand a chance against them.

"Lord Turles! Lord Turles! We've had news on Frieza, sir!"

"Well?"

"He's dead, sir."

Turles turned slowly to face his com officer. "Frieza? Dead? How?"

"I'm not sure, sir." The man examined the printout he held. "Ah, here. He was assassinated. His second in command, that Zarbon, has taken over and is dealing with the assassin."

"And who killed him?"

A hint of a smirk. "You should be pleased, sir. It appears that Brolli killed him."

"Brolli?"

"Yes sir!"

"Dismissed." The man darted off, leaving Turles to muse over the new information.

"I suppose those wishes seem selfish," Goku concluded quietly, "but that's all I really want to wish for. May I please use your dragonballs?"

"For a king to wish for wisdom and understanding is not selfish," the old Namek replied. "Nor is it selfish for a man to wish to be a good mate."

Goku waited quietly, his posture entirely dejected. He honestly didn't know if it would help to be able to understand his ex-wife, his mate, or the race he'd grown up apart from, but if the Nameks were willing, he would still make the attempt. He didn't need strength, or power. He was strong enough. He was just tired of being stupid, and not understanding anything. If he were allowed to wish himself smart, maybe things would be better.

"Very well, Goku. I will have the dragonballs assembled for you."

"Thank you. Should I wait here?"

"If you wish."

Well, he didn't really wish to stay, but he didn't want to go back to Turles just yet. Besides, he needed to work out the best wording for his wish. "I'll stay, if I won't be a bother?"

"Certainly. Would you like something to eat?"

"No," came without thought, and "thank you," because he remembered he was supposed to be polite. He moved himself to an out of the way corner and settled into it. How should he phrase his wish? As a king? As a mate? Or just ask to be smart? But, did smart mean the same thing as wisdom and understanding? 'Cause, Bulma was smart, but she didn't understand him at all. And no one with a mind would call her wise. So… oh, he was giving himself a headache!

Turles looked up as the sky darkened. A storm? No, not a storm. Even without his scouter's sudden frantic beeping, he could feel the power that had changed the sky so drastically. Something incredibly strong, and – dammit! His mate was most likely in trouble. Snarling, Turles launched himself skyward and headed for the source of the power spike.

"Hi, Turles."

"Kakarot. What happened?" The sky had lightened as suddenly as it had darkened, within moments of his taking off. He'd continued on to find what was left of his mate, and to yell at him if he'd survived. Once he figured out what had happened, that was.

"I asked the Nameks if I could call the dragon." Kakarot shrugged. "They said okay, so I called him and made my wish."

"You did what?"

"I'll be okay in a minute or two. I just have to get used to it, is all."

"Kakarot, what did you wish for?" he snarled.

Kakarot smiled at him, albeit it was a smile that barely touched his lips and didn't reach his eyes. "To be better."

Turles stared at him. "Better?" he asked finally, when no more information was forthcoming, "Better how?"

Kakarot dropped, sitting at his feet. His head tipped back, spikes swaying, Kakarot just looking up at him. Then his fool of a mate let himself fall backwards, hitting hard enough to bounce his head. Twice. Turles sneered. "Better how, Kakarot?"

Newly-wished understanding took over. Goku stretched provocatively before running his hands to the top of his pants. Turles' eyes tracked them as he tugged his shirt loose and slowly wriggled free of it. He balled the shirt and tossed it aside. Goku's smile softened, became fuller, as he half-lidded his eyes. Fingers traced over his stomach to the waistband of his pants, and a little shimmy slid them down enough that Turles' attention was entirely on his hands. "Does it matter?" he purred huskily, sliding the pants a little lower.

"Yes." Turles wrenched his eyes from the bulge his mate was trailing his fingertips over to look at his face. Which didn't help, because Kakarot was looking up at him through half-slitted eyes, tongue tracing over his lips, a soft breathy moan accompanying the slight roll of his head and the diverting arching of his hips as his mate pushed his pants down lower to reveal the head of his cock. "Maybe not."

Turles settled next to his mate's waist, one hand resting on the ground at his opposite hip. He eased the waistband down a bit more with his free hand, until his mate was fully free of the confining clothes. He trailed his fingers lazily over the filling cock as Kakarot continued to shimmy his way out of his pants; and laughed at his mate's frustration when he couldn't get them over his boots. "Leave them, Kakarot."

Kakarot arched under his hand, his own hands rubbing over his chest and throat. Turles watched the uncharacteristically wanton display. He was enjoying the show, but the longer it went on, the more unlike his mate he realized it was. Still. He bent, licking over the exposed chest until he came to a peaked nub. He paused to lick lazy circles before biting sharply. Kakarot gasped and arched, hands reaching to grab and hold Turles to his chest.

Turles growled at him, twisting the nub in his teeth. Kakarot yelped, and yelped again when he tried to push Turles away while still being bitten. He wised up and let go of the older Saiyan's hair, instead stroking his fingers over the other's shoulders. Turles released the nub and licked to the other one. This time, Kakarot didn't grab at him. Instead, the younger whined needily as his hands tugged at Turles' uniform.

Turles sat back, stroking roughly over his mate's cock. Kakarot continued to whine, alternating with scattered purrs, as he thrust against Turles' hand. The younger Saiyan's skin was flushed, a bruise already forming around the abused nipple. Turles focused on that, noting how his mate soon moved one hand to pluck at the wounded nub. The other slid down his stomach to rest lightly on Turles' groin.

Kakarot never did that. Ever. His chest, yes. His arms, shoulders, his back? Yes. He'd twine their legs, but he never ever voluntarily touched Turles there. Dark eyes narrowed, the darker Saiyan suddenly taking a painfully tight grip on his mate. "Kakarot," he purred, "tell me what you wished for."

It was disconcerting, how suddenly and completely his mate went from lusty eroticism to the nearly empty shell he'd been for most of the trip. Kakarot's eyes were closed now, his head turned away. His hands were limp at his sides, cock flaccid, and his body seemingly lifeless. Except for his skin, which was still flushed, but the scent said it wasn't lust. His mate was… ashamed?

He'd known, as soon as Porunga had granted his wish, that he'd been stupid to make it. He should have wished not to be stupid, after all. "Kakarot, answer me."

"I just wished to be better. A better Saiyan king, a better mate, that's all," he said softly, when Turles began growling. "I wanted to understand what I was doing wrong all the time, I wanted to be good enough. Better."

Better wasn't good enough, of course. He heard Turles' curse through his own haze of self-recrimination, felt the motion as his mate turned him and spread him. He had just enough presence of mind to brace himself for the penetration that followed, and to force himself back so that his mate could take him deeply, thoroughly.

He hadn't really liked having sex with Chi-Chi. There had always been something missing, something he'd never been quite sure about. He had it with Turles, though, that elusive thing he still didn't have a name for, but could now recognize. He twined his tail around Turles', and stroked.

Turles' growling became purring, his viciously savage shoves easing into a more pleasurable thrusting.

"More. Please?" Goku threw his head back, dropping to his forearms. Turles would ride him hard: he always did. He let his tail do what it would, alternately lashing at and stroking his mate's chest and back. Turles' purring became panting growls, his hands locking on Goku's hips and pulling him closer with each thrust.

The strange new part of his mind took notes on what Turles liked and didn't like as he spread himself as well as his tangled legs would allow and arced backwards as much as he could. He purred and whined, begged, but never growled or demanded. He'd learned before his wish that Turles was the only one allowed to growl, and demands would be met with more pain than pleasure. Goku whimpered eagerly as Turles bent over him, one arm going around his waist, hand catching and fondling his cock.

Turles bit at his neck; Goku angled his head to allow him more access. He purred brokenly as Turles broke his skin and lapped at his blood, whined when the older Saiyan slowed and eased his rhythm to a level of gentleness that Goku had never felt from him before.

"Mine," the older man growled at him.

"Yes," Goku agreed immediately, relaxing and submitting to his mate. Turles bit him again, and then sat up. He pulled Goku up against him, the hand on his hip directing Goku to keep moving as the other hand pulled his face around for a kiss. Goku moaned into it, his hands moving to his neglected cock. Turles didn't stop him when he began masturbating, instead breaking the kiss to bite his neck once more.

Goku held himself off, riding his mate with an eager frenzy Chi-Chi had never inspired. He milked Turles' orgasm until his mate slipped from his body as he rose. Turles pushed him to his knees, moving from behind to beside him. Goku looked over, saw where his mate was focused, and sat back up. He spread his legs wider, stroking himself for Turles' pleasure. He threw his head back, gasping, when he began fingering himself as well.

Turles shifted for a better view, so Goku put everything he had into his display. His tail twined and snaked over his body, teasing sensitive nipples and his dripping cock, circling but never entering his finger-filled anus. He twisted and pushed, trying to reach that spot that Turles always did, even as his stroking hand sped up. He whined and writhed under his ministrations, release imminent, but waiting. Waiting for the quietly spoken, "Come for me," that whispered from his mate so many minutes later.

Goku came with a shrill, shuddering cry. He stiffened, almost fighting against his release as it ripped through him, collapsing in a shuddering heap as it passed. He pulled his fingers free, sending another wave of bliss rippling through his nerves. Goku gasped, shallow little pants that didn't give him enough air, but were all that he could manage. The world seemed grey around him, misty, almost as if it had grown foggy while he had been fucking. The scent of spent sex was strong in his nose, almost masking the other, far fainter scent he gave off.

"Brolli killed Frieza. Zarbon took over, and he's dealing with Brolli."

Turles grinned lazily as his exhausted mate snapped his head up, sex-glazed eyes filmy and confused. "Huh?"

"I said: Brolli killed Frieza. Zarbon took over. He's the one meting out whatever punishment Brolli is getting for having killed Frieza."

Dark eyes blinked furiously, spikes swaying as Kakarot shook his head in apparent hopes of clearing it. "I thought you said Brolli was Zarbon's sex slave? How did he get close enough to Frieza to kill him? Wait, if Zarbon let him go to Frieza, how do we know he didn't order Brolli to kill him? He may not be getting punished at all, but rewarded instead."

Full lips pursed, dark eyes narrowed. "That would be most likely, especially if Zarbon wasn't pleased at being told to share. Zarbon gets rid of his biggest rival, takes over due to his position in Frieza's army, and gets to keep Brolli out of the public eye under the guise of punishing him."

"When did you get so clever?"

"I made a wish to be a good Saiyan king, remember? What good is a king who can't analyze enemies – or potential allies?" Kakarot twisted, getting his feet in front of him. He pulled up his pants, standing as he got them past his knees. "I wonder which Zarbon will be?"

"Enemy."

"I don't have enough information to confirm that." There was a different tone in his mate's voice. "You will ensure that I get it, Turles. I need everything you can find on Zarbon."

Casual command, the tone of a king. Turles scrambled to his knees, saluting. "At once, my king. I'll have all the files I have on hand delivered to your room?"

"Our room?" The question was hesitant, the kingly tone gone.

Turles stood, and smoothed his uniform pants into place. "Our room, King Kakarot."

Kakarot smiled at him. "Thank you, Turles. I promise I'll be a good mate now."

Turles chuckled. "Come on. Back to the ship."

Goku followed him. He had what he needed now, to be a good king and a good mate. He just hoped the wish he'd made didn't backfire on him. Goku really wasn't a very Saiyan name. It was his past, and while he wouldn't forget his past, it was time to begin his future. Kakarot hurried to catch up to his mate.


	14. Consequences

Brolli didn't dare look up when he heard the door open. He didn't dare move, hadn't dared since the day after his punishment had begun. The heavy footsteps weren't ones he recognized, which meant his punishment hadn't ended yet. Fingers grabbed his hair, pulled him roughly to his knees and face-first into a cock. He opened his mouth, just like the good little whore the man called him. He was pretty sure he knew what that phrase meant, now, and wouldn't have to ask his master.

If his master ever released him from the punishment, that was. His throat and rear were raw and tender, his body battered and bruised, his tail a mess, but his master had told him that it was necessary to be hurt this way, then tanked. That there were worse ways he could be hurt, ways that would damage him so that he would be crippled and ugly by the time it was over, ways that not even a tank could help. Zarbon had told him he'd been bad, and must be punished. His master had promised that no one would be allowed to maim or mark him permanently – which meant they must tank him – but they could do anything they wished, and he must allow it. That if he allowed it, he would be strong enough for what was to come. His master had looked worried when he'd said that.

So he allowed it, when the men came and fucked his ass or his mouth. Allowed himself to be pissed on, shit on. Allowed the whippings and canings. Allowed the beatings. Allowed the sodomy with unnatural objects. He allowed it all, because it was necessary. Necessary to keep him alive, necessary to make him strong, necessary for his master's plan to keep him safe. He didn't really understand how it would keep him safe, but his master knew and worried it wouldn't be enough. Brolli only understood that it hurt like with Father, and hoped it would be over soon. Zarbon hadn't been sure how long the punishment would last.

His tail! Brolli screamed in spite of the mouthful clogging his throat, wailed as the sensitive appendage was yanked and twisted, fragile bones crushed. His abuser threw him down on his belly, still twisting his tail. The guards laughed, and he heard the top of the tin box open. His screams became shrill keening as the true torture began. Brolli held on to two thoughts: Master said it could be worse, and not to reveal his secret. He concentrated hard not to reveal the secret, fighting against himself as he drowned in agony.

Zarbon paced his room, his strides jerky. Several times he stopped and turned towards the door, only to catch himself and take up the uneven pacing once again. His fingers flicked over his jewelry, touching the gems dangling at his ears and forehead once again. Occasionally he brushed the one from his forehead away, revealing an angry burn behind it. Similar burns marked his neck where the earrings had touched him.

He had had to make a semblance of punishing Brolli. His pet had killed Frieza on his order, but there was no one who knew that. The cameras hadn't been working, and he'd killed the guards himself. He brushed irritably at his jewels even as he allowed himself to smirk at his twisted logic: kill the guards who didn't guard, punish the sex slave who did the killing. However, he was punishing Brolli for attacking without orders, not for the killing. Not that he was telling anyone that.

"You're glowing."

"Brolli."

"Do you know what they are doing to him?"

Zarbon whirled. "I know," he snarled. "I know, and I must allow it! King Kold will join us in two weeks time, and I must allow this punishment to continue at least until then!"

"Why?"

"Jeice…" Zarbon sighed, and threw himself onto the couch. "What happens when a Saiyan gets hurt, badly, but not killed?"

"You tank 'em so they're fit to send out again."

"What happens when they come back mostly dead and get tanked?"

"You send 'em out again."

"Why?"

"Um…." It was odd how he could hear Jeice frowning as he thought over how to answer. "Oh, I get it! The monkeys are always stronger! You're making the kid stronger?!! Are you insane?!" A frantic white blur zipped over and straddled him. "The boy tore Frieza apart with his bare hands! He's strong enough!"

"Not to take out King Kold," Zarbon replied with a quiet certainty. "Kold will want him destroyed: Brolli killed his son. You know that. I know that. I know that, and I won't allow it! Brolli is mine."

Jeice sat back and stared down at him. "You're taking on King Kold over a monkey? A Saiyan? Seriously?"

"Apparently." Zarbon frowned, and gave in. He removed the earrings and diadem, tossing them into a corner.

"Three, two, one…." Jeice counted down. "Huh. They didn't explode WAH! Okay, they did."

"That is the seventh set since Frieza's death. I'm literally glowing with _Brolli's_ power, not my own."

"I'm surprised you haven't split your skin. Or transfor – I won't say it!" Jeice squeaked as Zarbon surged up.

"You had better not!" Zarbon snapped.

"Calm down. Just go get the kid, will ya? You can always say the public punishment wasn't creative enough. Most of 'em just fuck him anyhow, and that ought to be reserved for us. He's yours, not theirs."

Zarbon started to smack the smaller man, then froze, an arrested expression on his face. "True. Get up, get dressed, and find my clothes."

The sound began grating on their ears long before they reached the wing where Brolli was kept. High and shrill, almost metallic, but with a ring of something not artificial. Zarbon's new set of jewels was already glowing nearly as much as he was. Zarbon was first through the door; Jeice arriving in time to see him drop his transformation as he fell to his knees next to the half-dead thing that had once been his pet.

Jeice checked the carcasses, just in case Zarbon had accidentally left one alive, then flash-fried what was left of them. He glanced once at the gory mess, and went straight to the regeneration tank in the corner. He checked the readings. "Zarbon, they've either not healed him, or only healed him partway."

A snarl was his only answer, so he reset the tank to the proper levels for a severely damaged Saiyan. "It's ready for him now."

"Help me."

Jeice's hair was red by the time he and Zarbon had gotten the Saiyan to the tank. They laid the boy out in front of it. "Let me see if this model has the horizontal option. Otherwise… it's gonna be real bad."

"Check." Zarbon stayed by the boy's side, rolling him very carefully to remove the undamaged portion of his tail while Jeice checked the tank again.

"Zarbon? It doesn't. Vertical only. It will hold two, though."

"Two?"

"Yeah. I can reset it so you can both be in there, or me and the kid. You're taller, though."

"Leave the settings as they are, and help me get him in there. I'll hold him."

"Right, then."

Tank. A strange smell, though. Tanks weren't supposed to smell like his master. How could… oh. He wasn't alone. His master was wrapped around him, holding him up. He watched tendrils of loose green hair floating, moving with the slow undulations of the chemicals surrounding them. His master was with him.

Content, Brolli settled himself more firmly against the slender form behind him. The question of his punishment's end could wait, since his master would be with him this time when he came out of the tank. He felt… stronger, not weak and dizzy as he had been the last few times he'd woken.

Zarbon's arms tightened around him. Brolli tipped his head, letting it loll against Zarbon's shoulder. Golden eyes regarded him; one hand loosed. Brolli caught the blur of white: Jeice had moved to empty the tank at Zarbon's signal. Zarbon held him as the tank drained, held him until Jeice had opened the door and opened a towel. Brolli stepped forward obediently when Zarbon released him; accepting Jeice's critically assessing gaze as the other man toweled him dry before handing him a fresh towel.

Brolli turned to his master, performing the same service for Zarbon that Jeice had performed for him. Gratefully, he sank to his knees to dry his master's legs, and was startled to be pushed away. "Am I still bad?" he asked mournfully, not even trying to get up. "Am I… still bad?"

"No!" This from a fierce Jeice, who forced him to sit back up and wrapped another towel around his shoulders. His master, though, said nothing as he dried his own legs. Brolli regarded him hopefully as Jeice began working on his hair, slumping in defeat when Zarbon refused to acknowledge him.

Instead, his master spoke to Jeice. "He's healed?"

"Yeah, he's healed. Needs a decent feeding – " On cue, Brolli's stomach protested its empty state. He flushed. " – and some rest, probably, but he's properly healed up this time."

"Good. King Kold will join us in two weeks. The Saiyan's punishment will continue until he arrives." Brolli slumped further in Jeice's embrace. Master was going to ignore him again, for two whole weeks.

"Bad off as he was, is that really necessary?" Jeice protested.

"We will punish him from now on, Jeice." Zarbon turned his back on them and began dressing. "His body was broken. It must be that his spirit is broken as well."

"Not his mind?"

"His father already did that," Zarbon returned sourly. He faced them once more, fingers working through his hair, braiding. "I am fairly certain that Saiyan broke his spirit as well, but it must be certain he will do whatever I wish when I demand it of him."

Quietly, not quite subvocally, Brolli whispered, "I kept the secret."

Zarbon knelt in front of him. "I know. Now you must learn to obey my slightest wish."

Brolli looked up at him, eyes shining. "I can do that!" he said eagerly.

Zarbon laid a finger over his lips. Brolli licked, knowing his master liked that, but kept quiet. "I don't want you speaking again until I give you permission. I will not touch you, or speak to you after this. You are going to have to learn what it is I expect of you without those cues."

Brolli nodded, eyes wide. It was a hard task his master was giving him, but he'd been paying attention. He knew a great deal about what his master liked and expected already. He could do this.

"I can't expect Jeice to keep his mouth shut – "

"Hey!"

" – so he will instruct you in anything complicated enough to require verbal instruction."

Brolli nodded again, Jeice huffing out his agreement. Zarbon gave him a small smile, then stood, every inch Frieza's replacement. "Take him to my quarters. He's to wear nothing save his collar and these." Zarbon flicked the jewels Brolli wore.

"Right. Come on."


	15. Coming Together

"Saiyans? Not Vegeta and Nappa?" Zarbon looked away from the mass of paperwork he was tending. "Who are they, then?"

"Turles, and one he called King Kakarot."

"_King_ Kakarot?" Zarbon chuckled. "I doubt Vegeta will care to hear that. Show them in." It was a matter of minutes, during which he summoned Brolli and arranged himself and his pet in the way most likely to irritate any Saiyan. He took the throne, with Brolli kneeling by his feet. He ran his hand through the Saiyan's hair as the two new ones entered the room, prompting a soft purr from his pet.

The two could almost be identical twins. One was clearly older, however, and for some reason acting submissive to the younger. He pulled Brolli up to sit on his lap, smiling slightly as the young man curled happily against him and the older of his guests growled. "So, which of you claims to be the King of the Saiyans?"

"I am King Kakarot." The younger Saiyan stepped forward, curiously regarding the purring Saiyan in his lap. "I became king when Vegeta died."

So, Vegeta was dead. No doubt Nappa was too. And Kakarot…. Ah, yes. "You would be Raditz' younger brother."

"Yes."

"Which means you are no relation to Vegeta, so how did you come to be king?"

"Saiyan custom," growled Turles.

"And you are?"

"Turles is my mate," Kakarot answered, effectively silencing the older man as he opened his mouth. "Are you Brolli's mate?"

"His mate?" Zarbon blinked, looking down at his lapful of happily purring Saiyan, and back to the Saiyan's odd king. "He is my pet. What made you think he is my mate?"

"You've marked him according to Saiyan custom."

Belatedly, Zarbon remembered what he'd been told about mated Saiyans. He _had_ inadvertently mated with the blasted monkey, which would explain why he was so very loathe to give him up. Saiyan bondings were tricky things. "Have I?"

"Brolli, is that creature your mate?" the older Saiyan snapped.

Brolli's purr stuttered a moment, but the young Saiyan only curled closer, not answering. Turles took a threatening step closer, tail bristling, only to be shot down by his king. "It's perfectly fine if they're mated, Turles."

"It is?" Zarbon's startled tone matched Turles'.

"Sure. He's more likely to be ally than enemy if he's got a Saiyan for a mate. Strong allies are a good thing, and Brolli is stronger than he is."

"You can tell that just by looking?" Turles sneered.

"Uh-hu." Kakarot turned his attention back to Zarbon, his stance becoming a bit less open, a bit more predatory. "I heard Brolli killed Frieza?"

"Yes."

"Good, then I won't have to."

Zarbon regarded the king with amused distain that changed to a slight caution. Brolli had been capable of transforming. Vegeta had said only one Saiyan was capable, but the little prince had been ill-taught of his people's customs and history, and unwilling to learn what Zarbon discovered about them. Perhaps this king was able to transform as well? "You seek an alliance with me then."

"Yes." Kakarot motioned towards Brolli and Turles. "We are all that remain of our race, true, but you are aware of our power and our potential."

"I am."

"It's entirely likely that Brolli could bear your children…." Kakarot went on, but Zarbon's brain had shut down. Brolli could… his? He could have? What?

"Brolli is male." Kakarot blinked at the interruption, then grinned, nodding.

"Saiyans are funny like that. We don't die out easy," Turles spat. "He could be pregnant with your kid right now."

Brolli could get pregnant. Brolli could be pregnant. His hand dropped to stroke over the smooth stomach, and his own roiled as he remembered the rapes his pet had undergone. Brolli could be pregnant, and it might not be his. Or Jeice's. "How would you know?"

Kakarot tipped his head, focusing on Brolli. Brolli shifted to look at him, a puzzled look of not-quite-recognition coming to his face. Kakarot smiled at him. "You aren't. Your ki is solid, there's no sign of another's mixed with it."

Brolli turned back to Zarbon, whining softly as he shifted closer. His tail looped around Zarbon's leg, and arm sliding up around the man's neck. Zarbon dipped his head, granting his pet the kiss he desired. The reprieve from Brolli's punishment was welcome to them both. He had missed playing with the boy, had missed the eager affection the youth gave so freely. He looked up to see a spark of hunger in the Saiyan king's eyes, and disgust on his mate's face.

"We could possibly reach an alliance agreement," he decided.

Kakarot noticed what his mate didn't: just how comfortable Brolli was with Zarbon. The young Saiyan wasn't acting: he enjoyed being so close to the pretty older male, being petted and shown off. From the way the boy cuddled, he'd been deprived of Zarbon's affections for some time, and was desperate to make up that time. Kakarot knew the other Saiyan had been taken as a slave, and that he had killed Frieza. He'd his own theory about that, and the comfort level between the two seemed to confirm it.

He shot a quick, wistful look at his own mate. They had no such comfort level. In spite of his wish, and the time it had taken to finally find and meet with Zarbon, their relationship had done little beyond become more physically pleasing. Kakarot envied Brolli the easy familiarity that allowed him to cuddle and be cuddled, envied his ability to be loved and trusted.

Because it was clear that Zarbon trusted the youth. Sharp teeth were constantly at his neck, but Kakarot knew Zarbon believed Brolli would never do more than nip. His tail would loop Zarbon's neck, and the older man had no fear that he would be strangled. He shot another quick look at his growling mate. Turles might trust him like that, but he knew not to trust Turles that way. The older Saiyan was far too aggressive, and too much a sadist. Turles didn't hurt him so often as he once had, physically, but his words wounded Kakarot more – and he was never shy about telling when Kakarot had done something stupid. His wish to be better hadn't been all encompassing, unfortunately, and Turles had taken to making sure he knew it.

He studied their potential ally as he considered his relationship. Zarbon was pretty, almost feminine, a far cry from the rougher Turles. He seemed delicate, with his prettiness and his jewels, but Kakarot had no doubts that the pretty man could easily best his mate in a contest of strength. He was stronger than Zarbon, even with his augmented power level – either it was augmented or Zarbon was pregnant, and that was doubtful since Brolli was so clearly submissive – but Brolli was stronger than them all combined. Kakarot hoped Turles would keep his calm over the course of the –

Food? His nose twitched. Yep, food. Something that smelled yummy. Brolli had taken an interest in sniffing the air as well, an expression of delight on his face. Zarbon's expression of indulgence indicated that whatever delicious smelling stuff was coming would be a treat his mate enjoyed. Behind him, even Turles looked like he was anticipating a treat. Was the dish something that had been served on Vegeta-sei, to make the two Saiyan-raised Saiyans so pleased?

"Eh, Zarbon? We gotta problem." Kakarot turned back to see a stunning fall of white hair, pretty much all he could see of the speaker whose back was to him. Zarbon looked grim when the other man turned to face the assembly, and Brolli was clinging to Zarbon with enough strength to leave bruises. He watched as Zarbon soothed the boy – and wasn't Brolli his age, not younger? – and settled himself at the head of the table the nummy smells came from.

The white-haired, orange-skinned man sat next to him. To his surprise, Brolli sank happily to a cushion between them, and while he leaned more towards Zarbon, he was equally affectionate with the other. "Be seated. Jeice has brought news, and if we are to be allies, it must be decided soon. King Kold is arriving earlier than expected."

They sat. They ate. They talked. Turles walked off in a huff. Kakarot stared after him, but remained seated. "The idea does not offend you?"

Kakarot sighed. "I'm the Saiyan king. I knew this might be a possibility, but I was kinda hoping for the kill the bad guy version of allies instead." He turned his attention from the door to Zarbon. "You're pretty, you're strong, and the alliance would be good for both of us. However, Brolli is your first mate, just as Turles is mine. We'd be secondary mates to each other, even though I'm the King of the Saiyans and you are…" He frowned. "Come to think of it, what are you? I know you took over from Frieza, but you were his lieutenant, not his heir, right?"

Zarbon looked pained, and turned his attention to a nuzzling Brolli. It was Jeice who answered. "Zarbon wasn't a lieutenant. He was Frieza's general, his second-in-command. He was also the lizard's favorite lover, and one of his lesser mates. So, technically, yeah, Lord Zarbon is Frieza's heir."

"And you?"

"Me? I'm Jeice, with the Ginyu Force." Zarbon kicked him. "OW! Okay, okay. I'm also one of Zarbon's lovers, but the kid there is his favorite."

"You aren't mates?"

Jeice turned a questioning look to Zarbon, who ignored him. "Not by the ways of my people, no. Dunno about his."

"No."

"Not by his, either."

"A favored lover?" Kakarot asked, mind racing with possibilities.

"Yeah, I suppose."

"So, technically, you would be a prime secondary mate to the both of us."

Jeice fell out of his chair. Zarbon looked to Kakarot, an arrested expression on his face. "An alliance by a secondary marriage?"

"A triple secondary marriage, if you're also willing to share your first mate with mine."

Brolli squeaked.

"YOU WANT ME TO WHAT?!" Turles roared two hours later, when Kakarot informed him of the arrangements made after he'd walked out.


	16. An alliance by marriage

Zarbon noted the sour look on the older Saiyan's face, and the unhappy eyes of the smiling king. So, the negotiations did not meet with Kakarot's mate's approval. Still, they had come, so apparently Turles was obeying his king. "Please, be seated. There are a few final arrangements to make before we sign the documents."

Kakarot swallowed hard, and eased into one of the cushioned seats. Golden eyes focused on the damp patch near the neckline of the bodysuit the young Saiyan wore, then slid to the older Saiyan. Cold black eyes met his as Turles plunked himself in the seat next to his king, and wrapped his tail possessively around his mate's neck. Zarbon felt the younger man's sudden tenseness, and so switched his attention.

The younger Saiyan sat quite still, his pose regal. Yet, his breathing was just a shade to shallow, a bit too fast, and his eyes…. His eyes gave away his fear. Zarbon dipped his head to kiss Brolli, once again curled in his lap, to hide his disgust. Kakarot feared his mate. A king afraid of his vassal. Perhaps the alliance was not such a good idea, if the king could….

But wait. Saiyan mating customs… what was it about them? It had been so long since Raditz had spoken of them. "Jeice will be joining us shortly –" Turles' tail tightened, and Kakarot's breathing became more labored, though he strove to hide it. Zarbon remembered, and cursed Saiyans for their convoluted matings. " – and will hopefully remember to bring everything he was supposed to."

"I remembered." The shorter man dropped a pile of folders in front of Zarbon. He selected two, and gave them to the mated Saiyans before taking his own seat at the table.

Kakarot didn't even reach for his, though Turles flipped his open and began scanning the pages. Instead, the king made the slightest gasp, one hand involuntarily rising just a bit from its former death grip on the armrest. Zarbon had little difficulty seeing how his mate's tail dug into the corded neck, and he began to rethink the decision to marry his pet to the Saiyan. He would not have the younger man raped again.

Brolli nuzzled at his neck, purring that half-stifled little purr he did when he wasn't sure if he should be making noise, but wanted to soothe him. He pitched his voice to carry only to the ear already so close to his mouth. "Look closely at the mated pair, my pet. It is the older that you are to marry. I find myself… uncertain this is wise."

"Ain'tcha gonna look over the documents?" Jeice demanded suddenly.

Kakarot reached for the folder, his head dipping almost apologetically. From where Zarbon sat, it didn't look as if the man read any of the pages, though he held each one for at least one full minute before laying it aside. As he set the last page aside, Turles released his neck. Zarbon examined the king's neck, alarmed when he realized he could see bruising above the high collar. That would not be happing to his Brolli. He'd already put his pet through too much pain.

"I've changed my mind," he said abruptly. Brolli stopped his stuttering purr, pulling back to look at him. Kakarot barely glanced up, but his mate smirked. Jeice just glared at him.

"You made me type all that shit up for nothing?" the little man demanded angrily. "You know I hate typing!"

"The original plan needs modification, Jeice." Zarbon tucked Brolli's head back under his chin. "I believe I would prefer Kakarot marry my Brolli, and I will marry his Turles. We will both still marry you, Jeice."

Jeice sighed. "That reduces the level of the alliance, though, don't it, if you and Kakarot don't get married?"

"No, it's still three secondary marriages," Kakarot said quietly, his voice slightly strained. Jeice gave him a sharp look, prompting a smile to form itself on the Saiyan's lips once more. Zarbon realized it had vanished when Turles' tail had wrapped around his neck. "There's really not that much change."

Jeice looked doubtful, and Zarbon didn't bother to silence him. "Yeah, but before, Lord Zarbon was marrying you, the king. Now he's just marrying your mate. That's lower on the scale. And you'd be marrying his pet… way lower."

Turles was growling again. Zarbon's eyes flicked to him, then back to the king. Kakarot was looking at Brolli. The younger Saiyan suddenly looked up at him. "No, Zar… Lord Zarbon is right. His proposal is more suitable for making this alliance work."

The growling became a low, vibrating snarl before Turles went silent. Zarbon regarded the white-faced Saiyan king thoughtfully. "You do know what you are risking?" he asked quietly.

"The welfare of my people comes before all else," Kakarot replied. "I cannot allow anything to compromise that."

"Huh?" Jeice said dumbly. "That don't sound like any Saiyan I ever heard."

Kakarot blinked, frowning in confusion. "Didn't Vegeta's father put the welfare of his people first?"

Neither Zarbon nor Jeice could stifle their laughter. Kakarot's shaky smile slipped from his face, an angry scowl soon taking over. "Let me guess. Saiyan pride this, Saiyan pride that, but no honor?"

"Oh, none at all," Zarbon agreed immediately. "I don't believe the Saiyans have had any honor for several generations, at least."

Turles began growling again. "Turles, stop." The young king's tone was utterly different. Turles' growling stopped as he looked over at the younger man's set face. "I am an honorable man, Zarbon. My people must come first: it is my duty as their king to see to their welfare. That is why I came here, to take Brolli away if I needed to, and to make an alliance if I didn't. It would be best for the alliance if we make the change you said, so we'll do it that way."

Brolli examined the man who was to be his new mate. He was supposed to be a king, but he seemed too weak. He didn't project the strength and assurance that his master did, plus he reeked of fear, blood, and pain. However, his master had said he was to mate with this Saiyan, so he would. "What do you like?"

"Like?" The man worked his ceremonial armor carefully over his head. Brolli had shed his the instant they'd entered the room where they were to consummate their marriage. "What do you mean?"

"Would you like me to suck you?"

"Oh! Oh. Um, no. Just help me get out of this, will you?" He'd gotten caught somehow, trying to get out of his bodysuit. Brolli giggled, and began stripping his new mate. His giggles stopped when he saw the bruising.

"What happened? Did you do something bad?" Brolli remembered, quite vividly, why he didn't want to ever do anything bad again. "Did you kill someone?"

"Huh?"

"Zarbon punished me when I killed Frieza. I had lots of bruises."

"Oh, I see. No, this is… punishment for something else." Kakarot smiled at him, and Brolli wondered how a smile could be so sad. "Let's just do this, okay? I don't want to take any longer than we have to."

"Oh, alright!" Brolli stripped easily out of his clothes, and crawled up onto the bed. "Come on."

Kakarot looked at the boy, on his knees with his legs spread, and shook his head. "I… want you to do it, Brolli."

"Me?!" Brolli flipped over, sitting to stare at the other Saiyan. Kakarot moved slowly to the bed, wincing with almost every step. He crawled stiffly onto the bed, not able to smother a groan of pain. "Turles would have hurt me like this. That's why Master wanted me to marry you instead."

"Yes. Please… just do it."

Father had said that Kakarot was the reason he was insane. Looking at the bloodied, bruised mess positioned for sex, Brolli didn't understand how his father could be right. Kakarot wasn't one to hurt anyone, or drive someone insane. Kakarot was nice, like Jeice was nice. He wouldn't have hurt him, so Brolli decided he wasn't going to hurt Kakarot.

"Okay. Let me get what we need." Brolli hurried to the adjoining bath, and found the items he'd hoped for. He filled the small basin with warm water and a soap he knew wouldn't sting Kakarot's wounds. A soft cloth joined the water and the soap. Brolli carried the basin back out.

Kakarot wasn't on his hands and knees anymore. Brolli put the basin on the bedside table, and checked the drawer. There was plenty of the flavored lube his master knew he favored. Good. Once he washed off Turles' stench and Kakarot's blood, he'd be able to treat Kakarot the same way his master had him his first time. Carefully, Brolli began washing the Saiyan king.

Kakarot whimpered at his soft touches, moving to his hands and knees once more. Brolli let him stay that way, since it made it easier for him to wash some of the injuries. He pushed the other Saiyan over when he'd finished his back, and started on the wounds on his front. "You're his mate?" he asked curiously, dabbing at the bleeding mate mark.

"Yes." Kakarot sighed. Brolli continued with his washing, and as he finished, Kakarot began speaking again. "I found out I was a Saiyan about four or five years ago. I'm not really sure. Time in space is so different than time on a planet. I found out about mating marks and what they meant about a half year after Turles marked me. I didn't even know we were mates until then. He… he wasn't real happy when I told him that."

"He's never let you mark him back, has he?" Brolli said with sudden enlightenment.

Kakarot turned his head away. "No. Nothing I do is good enough for him."

Brolli nodded thoughtfully as he slicked his fingers. "Zarbon allowed me that honor, but I didn't mark him very deeply. Am I to mark you, my king?"

"Ye… ah!" Kakarot jerked as he slid a single finger inside. "Yes, you're going to mark me."

"Okay." Brolli set to the task of preparing his king for penetration. Kakarot slowly relaxed, allowing Brolli to prepare him more easily. The young Saiyan wasn't happy about the way Kakarot felt. He had been allowed to play with Jeice, preparing his master's lover, so he knew that the strange, almost rough lines were scars. He wasn't happy that his careful preparations were making the king bleed, either. He hadn't yet been allowed to penetrate either of his lovers, and it seemed his first time would not be as special as he had hoped.

"Is this… is this what it's like for you? With Zarbon?"

"And Jeice," Brolli agreed.

"It feels… really good."

Brolli sat back, wiping his fingers clean of blood. "Are you sure you want me to do this?"

"Blood is just lubrication," Kakarot replied quietly. "Mate with me, Brolli. Mark me as your mate."

A few quick strokes were all he needed to slick himself and be ready to enter. Brolli licked his lips, wondering whether it would be better to pleasure the other as he'd been, or to just get it over with quickly. Kakarot lay splayed, open and ready, but only half-hard. Brolli met his eyes, and nodded once. "I'm ready."

"Good." Kakarot arched against him as he pushed in, sheathing himself as quickly as he could. His teeth connected with the other man's skin, biting and drawing blood as he purred his pleasure at this new sensation he felt. He pulled back, lapping at the bite that was much deeper than he'd intended. Kakarot's blood was pure, rich; a strong, heady taste. His purr mutated into an uncertain whine. Something was wrong.

"It's okay. That's what I wanted you to do," Kakarot murmured. He raised one hand, dragging his fingers through Brolli's hair. "I'm your mate now, like I'm supposed to be."

Brolli drew back, confused. Kakarot's words and actions didn't match his scent. He burrowed into the man neck, inhaling deeply. Kakarot gasped and arched against him. His scent charged with the musk of true arousal. Brolli licked at his neck, smiling as his new lover mewled and bucked once more. He began moving, slowly, drawing out the movements of his hips as he continued to lick and suck his lover's sensitive neck. Kakarot's reactions grew more enthusiastic, his scent loosing the oddness that had confused Brolli and becoming purely lust.

Brolli stopped holding back as Kakarot began to move against him, with him. He wrapped his arms around the king, grinding into him; panting and gasping into sweat slicked skin. Kakarot was purring, petting him, encouraging every thrust. Sweat stung Brolli's eyes as he worked himself to completion. He exploded with a feral growl he would never use with his Master, a growl rewarded with the soft lap of a tongue against his throat, and a deep kiss as he relaxed into Kakarot's arms.

Kakarot purred under him, lulling his sated body further. As he drifted into sleep, Brolli wondered why he felt so incomplete. But Kakarot's purr was irresistible, and he slipped into dreams.

He'd been right, Zarbon decided as he threw the attacking Saiyan into the far wall. Turles would have treated his pet no better than those he'd foolishly allowed to punish the young Saiyan. He would not have hesitated to take the boy without any preparation, or to fuck him until he was raw and bleeding. As it was, he'd come to this room with no intention of consummating the agreed-upon alliance marriage, and had attacked Zarbon immediately.

He would teach this one a lesson. Their mating would not be gentle. No, this would be savage, and forced. He would not let this Saiyan mark him as he had allowed Brolli, and he would make sure his mark was set deeply in the Saiyan's skin. He backhanded a ki-ball back into Turles' face, following it within moments to pin the beast between himself and the wall. Cloth ripped, the Saiyan's ass now bare and vulnerable.

Turles snarled and spat, his tail lashing out. The Saiyan was stronger than he looked, and his power seemed to be increasing. Zarbon scowled. That was one thing he had never liked about the monkeys, that uncanny knack they had of constantly increasing their power. Turles was older, a self-professed pirate. His resting level was probably half of his actual power – and the blasted man seemed to be channeling his power into his tail's hits.

"A pity you didn't care to do this the easy way," he purred into the Saiyan's ear, and grabbed his tail. One sharp twist broke it. "I dislike bruises."

"Asshole!" Turles growled. His power spiked again, enabling him to push slightly away from the wall. Zarbon shoved him back against it, then slammed his head into it twice for good measure. It stunned the Saiyan long enough to Zarbon to get free of his pants, but he'd have to have the dent fixed later.

He entered the other quite brutally, pleased with the pained yip that escaped through the otherwise apparently unceasing snarling. Turles squirmed and twisted, trying to escape, but Zarbon merely smacked him into the wall again. To his annoyance, the dent deepened, though the Saiyan did sag again. He tore the top of his shirt away. Turles had no mating mark, at all.

Zarbon shifted forms, and accepted the power that Brolli always sent him. His teeth sank deeply into Turles' shoulder, savaging the muscle. There would be no tank for this Saiyan when he was done: the mark, one of an enslaved concubine mating, would remain to forever remind him that he was Zarbon's.

He shook his head slightly before releasing the bite, and used his augmented strength to easily shove his newest pet to the floor. Turles tried crawling away, but Zarbon caught him easily. The growling ceased with his next entrance, gasps of pain taking their place and becoming whimpers as he ruthlessly took his pleasure. When Turles stopped fighting, he withdrew and changed forms once again. He turned the Saiyan, pinning his arms over his head with one hand, latching his other hand around the idiot's throat to ensure that he did not try to bite him.

This time, he entered slowly, smirking down as Turles as he rocked gently in and out. "You're a foolish Saiyan. Did you truly believe that I would accept you as anything but an enslaved mate after I realized your true relationship with your king? Especially after you attacked me?"

"What would you know of it?" Turles rasped. "You're no Saiyan!"

Zarbon bent his head, bringing about a hiss of pain as he cruelly bit into a pebbled nipple. "You are hardly the first Saiyan I've taken as a mate," he replied casually, licking blood from his lip. "I am aware of quite a bit of Saiyan culture, but my first mate made sure I knew everything there was to know about the mating customs. It wasn't information I needed to remember until now." He smirked. "You belong to me, slave."

He saw the awareness in the other's eyes. Turles would be the most difficult of his mates, and yet, the easiest to punish. It was only the thought of what this one could do to his king before Zarbon had a chance to take him in their marriage bed that made the deceptively fragile man pleasure his least favored concubine for the rest of their time together.

To his amusement, Turles was pathetically easy to pleasure.

Jeice sighed. Of course his marriage just had to be the last one. "And why me?" he demanded of the air. "What'd I ever do to have to be in a mess like this? Zarbon's got more bloody lovers than he has hair, so why me?"

He knew, though. Knew it was because Zarbon knew he had ordered Brolli to kill Frieza. Knew it was also because next to the young Saiyan, he was by far Zarbon's preferred bed partner. He didn't mind that, or the fact that he was going to get to bed a rather fine looking piece of Saiyan ass. It was the marriage thing. The permanency of the marriage thing. The whole he wasn't going to be single anymore, or having his own room where he could take anyone he took a fancy to. He really didn't like the idea of giving up his bachelor's quarters for a room in the harem quarters.

Then again, the bed was bigger, and a lot more comfortable than his. Hell, the whole room was more hedonistic than his, and he'd put some work into appeasing his hedonistic side. There were a few perks to this whole fiasco. However, having to wait two entire cycles for sex was _not_ one of them. "That just ain't fair," he groused, and flopped back onto the sinful luxury of the bed.

A muffled thump against the door brought him to his feet. Curiosity prompted him to open the door, and one of his two future husbands slumped into the room. "Fuck."

"Not now, please," the Saiyan whispered. "Let me rest a little longer."

"Not what I meant. You look like hell."

His comment earned a half-smile as the man sank into the cushions of one of the loveseats. "Awk! You could have warned me it would eat me!" The Saiyan thrashed a bit, finally achieving a comfortable position. "You are with the… Ginfu Force?"

"Ginyu. Captain Ginyu's elite squad." Jeice struck one of his poses.

"You look silly like that," Kakarot informed him. "Do you mind if I stay here until it's time?"

"Sure, do what you want." Jeice took a few more minutes to observe the other, and decided that he might as well be hospitable. "You want a drink? Something to eat?"

"No. I'm not really hungry."

"Then you're sick," Jeice groaned.

"No, I'm just not hungry," Kakarot protested.

"A Saiyan is always hungry."

"Most of them, maybe, but… I'm not."

Jeice regarded him speculatively. Kakarot had none of the brash pride and bravado that Vegeta had always displayed. He didn't have the brutishness of Nappa, or the raw sexuality of Raditz. In fact, he didn't even resemble the somewhat predatory creature he'd become during the negotiations. Instead, he gave off an air of quiet desperation and unhappiness. "Want a blanket then?"

The Saiyan flinched. "No. I'm fine, really. It's just… well… we're gonna have sex pretty soon and I… kinda wanted to know more about you?"

Flummoxed, Jeice perched himself in one of the chairs. "You mean, what I like in bed? I'm up for pretty much everything: top, bottom, going down or…. Are you blushing? You are!"

Kakarot lifted a hand, hiding his flaming face. "I'm… uh, not real used to… that kinda stuff. I meant, about you. What are you? I've never seen anyone with red skin like yours before. Or blue like Zarbon, either."

"Yeah, well, Zarbon's an alien and I'm a mutant." Jeice shrugged. "You're a Saiyan."

Kakarot frowned. "Um, but aren't we all aliens? And a mutant what?"

Jeice blinked. That was a question he'd never been asked. He was just a mutant. He'd been told so all his life. Zarbon had always been an alien, some said an alien prince, but no one said prince of what. "I… don't know," he admitted finally. "I'm just… no one ever said, you know?"

"Oh." Kakarot scrunched down into the couch a little more. "This's comfy. Are all the rooms like this?"

"This is one of the harem rooms. Isn't yours like this?"

"Turles and I have been staying in his room on his ship."

His room? His ship? Wasn't this Saiyan the king? But then, Saiyan matings were weird. Jeice had read the information Zarbon had given him in preparation for this marriage. He would, after all, be mating with this Saiyan. Casually, Jeice gathered up the folder, and flipped it open. Somewhere in here… "Hey, you don't mind if I work while we talk?"

"No, go ahead." The Saiyan yawned, and snuggled deeper into the couch.

Jeice smirked. "You sure you don't want a blanket? You look a little cold."

Kakarot gave him a hesitant smile. "I guess I am a little. Do I really look that bad? I don't know what hell looks like, but it didn't sound good."

Jeice muffled his laughter in the blanket he'd picked up. "You look like you've been through a round or two of intensive training, and only set the regeneration tank at half-capacity." He moved closer, tucking the blanket around the Saiyan. "Come to think of it, you kinda smell like you've been in a tank."

Kakarot flushed. "I guess I didn't wash all the smell off, huh?"

"It clings. Raditz used to bitch all the time because he couldn't get the stink out of his hair."

"You knew Raditz?"

"'Course I did," Jeice snorted. "He was a good fuck."

"Oh," Kakarot said in a very small voice, and hid under his blanket. Jeice snickered, and turned to the file. Somewhere in it was the clue he needed to figure out what the hell was up with this strange king.

"So, we're gonna be mates, huh?" he said after several minutes.

"Yes," muffled by the blanket still over the Saiyan's head.

"What kind?"

"Huh?" A single eye was revealed. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you're a king, so obviously not equal." Jeice tapped the pages. "Zarbon didn't specify what kind of mating you'd be doing, right? So, what kind are we gonna have?"

"What's that?"

"This? It's… um… paperwork!"

"Oh." Obviously, the Saiyan didn't believe him, but wasn't going to press. "Well, I may be a king, but we're basically doing this because our race has been pretty much obliterated. So, I suppose it will be a mating that will reflect that we need Zarbon's…" a frown, and the blanket slipped to show Kakarot was chewing on his lip, "protection, I guess."

"That's with Zarbon," Jeice dismissed. "I wanna know about me."

"You?" Kakarot looked puzzled. "It's the same thing, isn't it? You'll be Zarbon's husband, and my mate."

"You're the weirdest Saiyan I've ever met," Jeice decided. "Where are you biting me, I mean?"

"Oh, I'm not." Kakarot barely got the words out before he yawned hugely, and to all appearances, promptly fell asleep.

Jeice stared at him for some time, but the Saiyan didn't react at all. His breathing remained steady, and deep. Finally, Jeice set the pages aside, and went closer. Lines of fatigue became clear, as well as small signs of injuries that the tank hadn't completely healed. How hard had the man trained, and how weak had he set the tank, to look so hellish? Then again, when was the last time the Saiyan had slept well? Saiyans, as a rule, didn't just fall asleep and stay that way when someone was so close to them, unless it was a mate. And Jeice wasn't Kakarot's mate yet.

The door swished open. "Hey, Zarbon."

"Jeice. What…. Ah, I see." Zarbon looked down at the sleeping Saiyan. "Let him sleep."

"Sure." Jeice seated himself in Zarbon's lap as soon as the taller man was comfortably ensconced in a chair. "He's… odd."

"He was unaware of his Saiyan heritage until Raditz found him," Zarbon said quietly. "Did I not include the transcripts?"

"Nope."

"Ah. He was raised as one of the people he was sent to destroy, after a head injury stole his memories."

"Huh."

"They were pacifists."

"Pacifists?" Jeice repeated, stunned. He threw another look at the sleeping Saiyan, then dissolved into giggles. "A pacifist Saiyan?" he gasped. "Oh, that's…."

"Exactly. Turles was less than pleased. He has been trying to bring out his mate's more Saiyan side, in the usual manner."

Jeice's giggles died abruptly. "I see." And he did, having seen Raditz more than once when the weakest Saiyan had returned from training to become a better Saiyan with the others.

"I intend to bond him."

"Really?" Jeice snuggled into Zarbon's embrace. "Can you bond with two Saiyans at once?"

"I see no reason why I could not."

Jeice kissed his neck. "Think we ought to wake him up?"

"No."

Kakarot woke up slowly, comfortable and drowsy and not really aware of his surroundings. Soft sounds he vaguely recognized finally caught his attention, and he turned sleep-blurred eyes in the general direction of the noise. Jeice knelt between Zarbon's bare thighs, and he admired the pretty picture they made for several minutes before he realized what he was seeing. Zarbon looked over at his yelp, and laughed softly. "Come, Kakarot. Join us."

Kakarot slid out from under the blanket and shed his clothes on the short walk to the loveseat Zarbon sprawled in. He hesitated only a moment before leaning in to give the older man a kiss. Zarbon reached up lazily, holding him in place as his other hand trailed down the defined chest and brushed over his stomach. Kakarot jerked back. "Sorry," the young man muttered, "I'm ticklish."

Jeice shifted as Zarbon pulled the young Saiyan down to sit by him. Zarbon went back to his lazy exploration of the youth's body, and Jeice soon joined him, forgoing bringing his lover off to explore their newest partner. Kakarot shivered beneath the combined assault, his returning caresses awkward and fumbling. Turles, then Brolli, were the only male lovers he had ever known. He wasn't sure what to do with two, and soon simply surrendered to feeling what they did, and touching what he could reach.

It felt good, better than with Brolli. Overwhelming pleasure, even when they entered him. He felt their bites, their claims. Felt something different, when Zarbon had licked the last of the flowing blood from his bite, and cradled him close. He felt… safe? Safe, and content, and so tired. It wasn't long before he was asleep once again.

"Hey, Zarbon?" Jeice traced the outline of the mark he'd put on Kakarot. "Wasn't he supposed to bite us?"

"He should have, yes." His hand touched the spot where he had felt the Saiyan's teeth for a moment, finding unbroken skin. The king's sharp teeth hadn't even left a scratch behind. It was very unusual, especially since he could feel their bond. He had been rather certain that both parties were required to make a claim mark in order to properly bond. This new Saiyan, however, was an anomaly in every sense.

"We've got maybe three cycles." Jeice leaned over Kakarot to kiss him. "You think these three can beat him?"

"I believe Brolli could do it on his own," Zarbon replied serious, and pulled Jeice back for another kiss. The smaller man slithered over the Saiyan, ready for more. But then, Jeice was always ready for more. Chuckling, Zarbon proceeded to indulge him.


	17. Epilogue

"How come no one ever told us Saiyans could breed like rabbits?" Jeice complained from the relative safety of Zarbon's arms.

Zarbon quelled a rambunctious Saiyan child – with Jeice's distinctively white hair – with a glare. "Because then we would have ensured Frieza killed all of them, instead of letting a few live," he answered tiredly.

"Do you mean that?" asked a quiet, hurt voice.

"No, Kakarot, he's just tired of the brats," Turles snapped. His tail lashed around a heavily pregnant belly, and he glared at Zarbon. "If he meant it, he wouldn't keep getting us pregnant."

"Oh, okay!" Kakarot chirped happily. "I like being pregnant. When do I get to be pregnant again?"

Every single one of his mates groaned. Kakarot's last litter of six was only two months old, and already as active and mischievous as their older siblings.

"Excuse me, Lord Zarbon?"

"What is it now, and leave him alone!" Inquisitive Saiyan half-breeds returned to their respective breeders at Zarbon's snapped order. "Well?"

"Ah, Ambassador Zirkle doesn't like the treaty terms, sir."

"Tell him he signs it, or I take the children to his homeworld for our next vacation."

"Yes, sir."

"Honestly, do you think that'll work?" Jeice demanded as the door shut.

"Jeice, if it was your homeworld, would you want sixty Saiyans under the age of six, and two pregnant Saiyans soon due to have multiple births anywhere near your planet?"

"Nope." Jeice yawned and stretched, then kicked one of his own children off his leg. "Go climb your mother, monkey!" The child pouted, then jumped on Kakarot, who laughed and began to play with her. "Hey Zarbon?"

"What?"

"You ever wonder if we were lucky all three of them were pregnant by the time Kold got his ship fixed and found us?"

"He was blocking their access to the kitchen," Zarbon replied. "Not wise."

"Not at all," Jeice agreed with a grin.

"He didn't taste nearly so good as chocolate," Brolli pouted. Concurring grumbling came from Turles. Kakarot, who generally preferred not to remember his part in Kold's defeat, turned green.


End file.
